


And then there was love

by sweariwouldnt



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 2013 era, Best Friends to Lovers, Canon Divergent, Crime, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder she wrote AU, also it's more deaths than a death, but it's sort of lighthearted i swear, murdering violently but not graphically, murders, one use of homophobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-14 08:48:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14766389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweariwouldnt/pseuds/sweariwouldnt
Summary: A crime story in which Louis makes ridiculous jokes about Harry's bum and loves Ben Winston's dog; where Harry blushes and may or may not be dark!Harry under the dimples and curls; where the world-famous author sleuth Jessica Fletcher joins One Direction to their music video set.And how lucky is that, as there seems to be a killer on the loose.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SO. I've been on a sick leave for weeks and during that, had a proper Murder She Wrote binge - and voilá, the first fic inspiration of this year finally came to me! 
> 
> I know the tags may sound gloomy and not gonna lie, people do die - but it's not very graphic, and not very gloomy but more lighthearted? Or maybe I just enjoy offing people bwahaha. 
> 
> **People familiar to us will be amongst the victims. If this concerns you, please do get in touch! I don't want to spoil in tags but also don't want anyone to read what may be upsetting for them.**
> 
> Thanks to Nina for checking this through with the kindest words as always, you rock.

 

The thing with Harry is that most of the things he does are, to Louis, both infatuating as they are infuriating. His best friend is so fucking weird sometimes, and his tendency to sniff absolutely everything is one of the weirdest things about him.

“Don’t you just love the smell of books?” Harry hums cheerfully and smells the pages of a book he’s holding again, moving his nose down the inner spine of the book. “I love how paper smells.”

“You love how everything smells,” Louis retorts. “Books, all your weird cleaning stuff, paint, me…”

Harry blushes, Louis can see he does even if it’s brief. It’s quite a rare occasion these days, as Harry seems to have put up a persona that never gets embarrassed about anything anymore. Good thing too, considering how often he makes a mess of himself.  

Harry clears his throat. “I can’t believe J.B. Fletcher is your aunt! I can’t believe you never told me.”

“Didn’t think you’d be too interested in an old lady.”

Harry huffs and rolls his eyes. “She’s not an old lady, she is an incredible detective novel writer.” He pauses. “Who admittedly does have a remarkable amount of life experience.” He turns his book around, running his finger on top of the picture on the back; it’s a picture of a kindly smiling lady in her 70s, with curly hair and laugh crinkles around her eyes. Eyes that are warm yet intimidating in a way, as if they could pierce any soul.  

“And she’s not really _my_ aunt. Her husband is my nan’s cousin. Well, was. Uncle Frank died like… ten years ago, maybe?”

“How long were they married for?”

“I don’t know,” Louis shrugs as he overtakes a lorry in front of them. “Forever, I’d say.”

“That’s so sad,” Harry sounds sad. “Can you imagine? Having the love of your life with you for so long, thinking you’d be together forever, then one day… Poof! You’re alone.”

Louis hums sympathetically and taps Harry’s knee theatrically. “Don’t worry, Harold, I’ll never leave you.”

“You’ll never marry me, more like,” Harry crosses his arms to his chest with feigned upset but his eyes sparkle mischievously. He sighs loudly. “I’ll never be an honest woman.”

“Not true,” Louis disagrees. “You’re the most honest person I know. You can’t lie for shit.”

Harry’s expression turns weird and he turns his to the window. The weather and scenery is miserable, rain drops running on the glass, blurring out the different grey shades of late January outside.  

“Meeting her is the only good thing about this whole _ordeal_ ,” Harry says gloomily.

“Talking all fancy now, are we? Trying to impress the elderly?”

“I just… This is dumb. Ben is dumb.”

Louis’ eyebrows shoot up as he glances at Harry, surprised. “Can I _please_ get that in writing? That’s what I’ve told you, a billion times. Welcome to the club of awareness.”

“I don’t get how his mind works.” ‘

“It doesn’t.”

“Like, Rock me? How does that make him think about a murder for the music vid?”

“Guess his idea of beating someone to death with a rock. Dark mind, that one, I’m telling you. Creepy creep.”

“He’s not…” Harry starts but stops. After a bit of pondering, he continues. “And a place called Rockcliffe? He really wasn’t around when creativity genes were handed out.”

“Was probably too busy stocking up on jawline genes.”

Harry barks out a laugh and seeming shocked of laughing at Ben’s expense, puts his hands over his mouth. “At least I’ll get to meet J.B.,” he says after gaining his composure

“Get to gush with her. About her.”

“Get to snoop around for any embarrassing childhood stories about you.”

“Oh please, as if mum hasn’t told you every last one of them.”

Harry can’t argue with that. “I’m glad she agreed to come. My faith in Ben’s murder plotting skills are rather…. rocky.”

Louis agrees; Aunt Jessie was happy to join the on the set, offering help (or more like saving) for the plot and script of Ben’s grand idea of some murder mystery video. According to her, it was about time she left her typewriter and knitting and enjoyed some refreshing young blood (pun most likely intended).

They’ve been stuck on this damn motorway for quite some time, and Louis is done. It’s getting dark, it’s gloomy and grey, and for some reason Harry still doesn’t comprehend the total lack of perks of open car windows.

The breeze coming through the window is messing up Louis’ hair, freezing his fingertips and being all round annoying. He turns the seat heaters up.

“Hey,” Harry huffs and flicks his book shut loudly, only to open it gently again. “My arse is boiling.”

“Great, should be ready to eat soon then.”

“Haha,” Harry sounds very unimpressed. “Can’t believe you finally became funny.”

Louis doesn’t bother to reply; his comeback _had been_ witty even if he says so himself. If this bloody queue doesn’t start moving soon, he will have too much time on his hands to give unnecessarily many thoughts to the concept of eating in relation to Harry’s ass.

“Why the fuck are all these people going to Cumbria anyway?” Louis groans, fingertips frantically tapping on the steering wheel. “It’s like suddenly everyone wants to go there. No one should want to go there.”

“Maybe they all just want to see One Direction,” Harry says absentmindedly, sounds of shuffling pages mixing with his quiet voice.

The row of cars starts moving again.

\--

It takes them another hour to finally reach their destination, their base camp for the next few days in the outskirts of Carlisle. Dashington Hall is accessed via a black iron gate and surrounded by brick walls. It takes a few moments of driving through the exceptionally kept garden to reach the grand manor surrounded by gardens; surely exceptionally upkept with a ruler. Built from darker and lighter brown stone, it almost resembles a castle minus the towers.

“I feel like I’m in an Agatha Christie movie,” Harry says and sounds more impressed than intimidated.

Louis takes in the view, of the manor and the hills far in the distance behind the woodlands, and to him, it all feels a little… eerie.

After parking the car, they make their way through the main entrance – a heavy door painted in shiny red, with white round pillars on both sides. The main hall boasts walls of dark wood panels covering the walls up to middle, then turning into floral tapestry. A fireplace crackles on the right side, several charcoal-coloured Chesterfield leather sofas, armchairs and mahogany tables scattered around in groups. There’s a bar in the corner, with drinks laid out on the table in coolers.

Louis feels like he’s travelled back in time; the décor is all different shades of brown, charcoal and black, mostly made of wood. And it smells like burning wood, too, and a faint smell of whiskey that has probably wafted around for decades.

“Well well, colour me shocked. Last to arrive,” Ben sounds bored as his voice as he walks up to Harry and Louis. “Last to arrive. As always.”   

“Ben, lovely to see your handsome face as ever,” Louis smiles as he puts his duffel bag down and stretches his back. It was a long drive.

“It’s not actually our fault this time,” Harry quips.  

“Nope, just Louis’,” Niall shouts from a nearby armchair.

Harry throws him a glare. “No, not even just Louis’ fault. The traffic was mental. Got stuck in the queue for ages.” As he speaks, Harry’s head is turning here and there in a way that is supposedly lowkey but resembles a treasure hunting puppy.  

“Calm down, Haz, mum said she won’t be here until tomorrow morning.”

“Oh,” Harry looks disappointed but then perks up. “Oh well, guess we can raid the bar then a bit as I won’t need to be on my best behaviour yet.”

“When have you ever been on your best behaviour?” Liam, who’s walked up to greet them and immediately been taken to a gentle headlock by Louis, laughs dryly as he tries to pull himself away.

“Always.”

“Never.” Harry and Louis speak at the same time.

“No raiding of anything, please boys,” Ben sounds tired. “We start shooting tomorrow, early, and I’m honestly not in the mood of playing a nanny _again,_ as well as trying to make sure this video blows up the bank. And the records. And the lists. I have so much on my plate.”

“You can say no to directing our videos at any time, you know.”

“Better behave, Lou, or it’ll be you that Ben’ll have murdered,” Harry whispers loudly to Louis.

“None of you is going to die. On the video, at least,” Ben retorts and raises his eyebrows.

Suddenly Louis makes an excited squeak.

“Now I remember why we drag you along! Come here, boy, who’s a good boy,” he kneels to meet an excited golden cockapoo running – more like hopping - through the hall, waggling his tail all over the place and not caring who it hits as it runs. The dog jumps on Louis and they fall to the floor, the dog drooling all over himself and Louis.

“Hey Colin!” Harry joins Louis and the dog, handing out tummy rubs. To the dog, only. “How’s my favourite Winston?”

“You three are ridiculous,” Niall says happily as he takes a gulp of his beer. “Maybe Colin could do my bit and I could just go golfing instead. He’s blonde and adorable and happy-go-lucky, too.”

“You’re not happy-go-lucky, though. You’re like all the nerves in Ireland pinned into one person. Tightly.”

“Thanks Liam. Nice. Sweet.” Niall takes another sip. “Yet totally on point. Glad I get to spend as little non-quality time with you guys as possible.”

They’re rooming up as usual, with Liam and Zayn sharing a room and Niall having his own. Several combos have been tested over the years and this one seems to be the one to result in least bickering. Harry and Louis share, that’s a given; the one time they bunked with other people in the early days ended up with Harry finding his way to Louis’ proximity in the little night hours anyway. It used to be a bit of a struggle to get the management to agree letting them stay together, until Harry put his feet down and started dropping hints of all the anonymous tips he could give the media to totally ruin whatever shit the team was currently pushing. Louis had felt immensely proud, and quite a bit intimidated, at how menacing the usually jolly Harry could truly be.

The whole hotel has been booked for the crew working on the music video. Despite Ben surely whipping them to half exhaustion with long hours and gruesome circumstances, Louis is feeling mostly excited and happy to see more or less familiar faces as he scans the room; some he knows from previous shoots, some are a part of their permanent staff. He catches looks with most of them, exchanging smiles and lifting his beer bottle as a way of greeting.

A loud clap of hands catches everyone’s attention, stopping the chatter.

 “Right, hello everyone! Welcome to shooting Rock me,” Ben bellows importantly once he has everyone’s attention.

Harry lets out a cheer, joined in by the rest of the boys.

“Yes, yes, I agree. This is going to be the best one yet! Now, I trust you all have fetched not only a drink but also keys to your room. We’ll start bright and early tomorrow, leaving here at 8AM sharp. We wait for no one. Not even our little starlets. The location is just a few miles from here, so if you do miss the mark, you can run there for all I care as long as your sweaty self doesn’t cost me extra time on make-up. But for tonight, please do mix and mingle, be pringles, won’t blame you if you even pretend to be single---”

Louis glances at Harry who meets his eyes and makes a vomit gesture.

“--- but make sure your part will not be delayed or fucked up come tomorrow, or I will scalp you. Now, cheers and enjoy, and make sure you rock me!”

The people clap and woo, turning their attention back to picking up earlier conversations. Louis busies himself with going back to scratching every bit of Colin’s brilliant dog body.

With some effort, Harry manages to convince Louis the dog will still be around even if they check into their room and get rid of their bags.

\--

The evening has been good. Louis has been catching up with the crew – and figured out one cameraman’s happy family news were the reason why Harry had gotten all teary eyed and clung to the cameraman’s neck strangely tightly. Louis has also had time to challenge Niall into a drinking competion, arm wrestled Liam and then with Zayn as a mean of getting over how clearly he lost to Liam. Harry seems to have mainly busied himself with doing a promo tour about Aunt Jessie, to the point where Zayn was barely keeping his poker face behind his hands covering his mouth whilst Liam had taken Harry by his shoulders and told him, quite seriously that he really is not that expert or invested in discussing the main differences of plot composition between Agatha Christie and Louis’s aunt. And no, Harry, that also includes the differences between Miss Marple and Hercule Poirot. Niall had been too busy chatting up a new addition to their crew, a young woman with ginger curls – Louis didn’t think he’d been introduced to her yet and no rush, she was politely chatting to clueless Niall in an extremely platonic way.

It’s barely midnight as Harry yawns and reaches out his hand to scratch behind Colin’s ear. Colin, who is sleeping and still somehow farting, with his head resting on Louis’ thigh. 

“Tired?” Louis asks Harry quietly, not wanting to bother Colin.

Harry nods, rubbing his eyes. “Yeh. Cigarette and bed?”

Louis nod, gently lifting Colin’s head off his thigh. Zayn joins them as they head outside.

“Fucking freezing here. H, can you gimme your coat?” Zayn’s voice is trembling slightly.

“You cold?” Harry turns to Louis, who shakes his head. Harry takes his long marine coat off and hands it to Zayn.

“Thanks man,” Zayn nods and pulls the coat around himself tightly.

The crispy winter air mixes with the cigarette smoke in the air and in their lungs. A crow is croaking somewhere nearby.

\--

Louis stirs awake, unsure of what woke him up. The last thing he remembers from his dream is a fire engine or maybe a police car siren going off; he’d been a kid again, climbing over a fence to this scrummy park in Doncaster. It’s around two in the morning, so he hasn’t been asleep that long. He turns to look at his side, seeing Harry’s side of the bed is empty. There’s no light coming from the bathroom, and he contemplates for a while if he should check up on Harry and text him, but Harry’s phone is left on his night stand. Louis has decided to just fall back asleep, as Harry is a grown boy who can most likely look after himself, as the door creaks open.

“Shit, sorry, did I wake you?” Harry’s voice is quiet and a faint light is let into the room from the hallway as he closes the door.  

“Where’d you go?”

Harry shows up a book he’s holding. “Forgot my book downstairs.”

Louis laughs quietly. “What, you need to memorise it by morning?”

Harry puts the book down on his nightstand, crawling under the covers. “No, just couldn’t really sleep. Thought I’d read for a bit but realised I’d left it downstairs.”

“Something keeping you awake?” Louis pulls his duvet higher up, shuffling around to make himself more comfy. He fucking adores hotel bedding, it’s so incredibly soft.

A strange look, just for a minimal second, appears on Harry’s face as he glances at Louis and then gives a small smile, shaking his head. “Nothing to worry about.”

“You know you can tell me anything. Everything.” Louis reaches out his finger to poke Harry’s cheek.

Harry nods but it feels like he’s miles away. “Go back to sleep, Lou. Do you mind if I keep the night light on? So I can read?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Louis closes his eyes. “Night, Haz.”

“Night, Lou.”

It doesn’t take long for Louis to drift back to sleep, the sound of Harry rustling the pages of his precious book lulling him into dreamland.

\--

Colin knows he’s a good boy, he has heard it so many times and it usually is accompanied by most delightful pats and rubs so it must be true. He’s a good boy, and right now he’s a very happy boy, dozing in and out of sleep in front of a fireplace, warm surrounding him all over as he’s lying on the softest rug that for some reason felt like a fellow dog at first but wasn’t very humpable.

He’s happy minding his own dog business, giving his balls a lick or two because he’s a dog and he can, when he hears a soft familiar voice. The voice is calling him Colin, which he by now thinks is probably his name. Stretching deliciously, he gets up and goes to greet the voice, deserving pats and a mouth-watering treat. Sadly the treat isn’t as delicious as he’d hoped, there’s a weird taste that he can’t quite pinpoint as a hand is suddenly over his mouth, forcing the treat down. Oh well, it’s food anyway so he licks the familiar hand as a thank you. He follows the ‘come on, boy!’ whisper outside, to the fresh air, and takes a sniff as he’d been trained to do. He is a good boy, he thinks proudly as he runs off to trail the smell. As he finds it, he barks to announce he’s again done very well. Upon hearing a high whistle, he attacks.

\--

Louis is woken up by a loud, frantic banging on the door. Harry is groaning, a pillow pulled over his head, next to him. The banging isn’t stopping.

“Alright, alright!” Louis yells, getting out of bed and stomping to the door. He tries to stomp as threateningly as he can. “This better be really fucking important,” he yells as he opens the door.

It’s Niall, his fist stopping mid-bang and next to him, white as a sheet, is Liam.

“Zayn’s dead.”  


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in which no one dies and no dogs are harmed.

It’s strange, Louis muses, how shock and sadness affect people so differently. Harry seems to have gone into a full mother hen mode, petting Liam’s hair and holding him close in a corner of a sofa. Niall is probably on his third whiskey by now and it’s barely 10 o’clock in the morning. Every once in a while, he barks out an incredulous, manic-sounding laugh of how ‘ _Zayn can’t be dead.’_

Louis hasn’t shed a tear himself. He’s still waiting to wake up from this fucked up nightmare, to tell about it to the boys at breakfast and have Zayn throw him strange looks as to why _he_ was the one dying in the dream. It is strange indeed, how Louis finds himself musing about other people’s reactions when it’d probably be healthier for him to react at least in some way.

Everything around him happens in slow motion. They’ve all been gathered to the main hall, and the eerie silence feels irrationally loud.

“Hello darling.”

A soft, slightly hoarse voice stirs Louis from his thoughts of nothing, and warm hand wraps around his shoulder. The smell of perfume reminds Louis of his childhood, of a quaint house with tens of different kinds of lace table cloths and bourbon biscuits that tasted a bit stale, but delicious none the less. Aunt Jessie is here.

“Hello,” Louis manages a smile and kisses her on both cheeks, embracing her. “So happy to see you, aunt Jessie.” Perhaps it’s the familiarity of her, a reminder of home and his mum, but suddenly Louis just wants to hold her tighter and not let go. He swallows a few times, an uncomfortable lump on his throat.

“So happy to see you,” Louis repeats sincerely as he finally lets her go.

Aunt Jessie smiles sympathetically. “Wish it would’ve been in nicer circumstances. I was looking forward to this.”

Her words remind Louis of Harry. Louis scans the room to see Harry still cuddled up with Liam – he must be very distraught to not even realise his idol has arrived. Louis chuckles at his own thoughts; weird indeed how his mind works in a moment of crisis. As if hearing his thoughts, Harry lifts his head up from where it’d been resting on top of Liam’s, his eyes meeting Louis’. He looks at Louis for a while and suddenly his eyebrows lift up, eyes sparkling for a fleeting moment as he finally notices Aunt Jessie. Louis wants to walk her up to Harry, introduce them; he also wants to go to Harry as the sparkle in his eye has now been replaced by what looks like… guilt? Harry turns his attention back to Liam.

“I gather that boy is your Harry?”

“He’s not my Harry,” Louis says automatically. “But yes, that’s Harry. Why,” Louis then questions, “what do you mean?”

Aunt Jessie shrugs. “Your mum mentioned him to me. Said he’s a dear. Told me to keep an eye on you two,” she winks.

Louis groans despite himself. “We’d know better than to even dream of pranking _you._ You’re always steps ahead!”

Aunt Jessie gives him a look, this annoyingly familiar look with one brow quipped up; a look that makes Louis feel like he’s been conned into admitting something he didn’t even know they were talking about. 

“Sorry, Mrs. Fletcher,” Ben walks up to them. “Could you please come with me? We’d like to have a word.”

As Aunt Jessie follows Ben out of the hall, Louis seeks out someone, anyone, who might be able to lead him to a cup of tea.

\--

It’s nearing 11 in the morning when Ben finally re-enters the room, together with Aunt Jessie and the girl with ginger hair who Niall had been trying to chat up the night before.

“Alright, everyone,” Ben claps his hands again.

As people turn to look at him, he suddenly seems lost for words. Louis finds himself feeling sorry for Ben, and he can see from the corner of his eye that Harry has half stood up but sits back down as Aunt Jessie puts a comforting hand on Ben’s. She says something to Ben, and Ben nods, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Good morning, everyone. My name is Jessica Fletcher and I’m so sorry to meet you all in these awful circumstances. I didn’t know your friend, but I understand he was a very lovely, talented, well-loved person. I offer you all my sincere condolences. His family has been notified, and the village doctor has kindly offered his help to see any one of you who might feel the need for professional help in this sad situation.”

“I’m sorry lady but who even are you?” One of the camera assistants, a burly middle-aged man, asks loudly and not politely.

Louis can hear a loud tut-sound next to him, and it’s only now he realises he’s moved to sit next to Harry and Liam on the sofa. He doesn’t remember getting there.  

“She’s a _world famous_ author,” Harry snaps up with a wavering voice. “And she’s solved several real-life murders, too. You utter twat,” Harry mumbles the last bit so only Louis can hear.

“Thank you, Harry, for that kind introduction. I have been… lucky in helping the officers around the world in solving some mysteries, yes. And I’ve been asked to offer my insight for this case, too.”

“You mean… he was murdered?” Liam finally speaks up, voice croaky and eyes big as plates.

Aunt Jessie exchanges a look with Ben and the ginger-haired girl.

“Yes, I’m afraid, it does in fact seem like Mr. Malik did not die of natural causes,” the ginger-haired girl says.

“And who the hell asked you, ginger?” The dickhead camera assistant speaks again, and Louis finds himself squeezing his hand into a tight fist. He unclenches it as he feels Harry’s fingers gently brush his fingers.

The ginger-haired girl crosses her arms and looks at the camera assistant menacingly. “It’s PC Woodcock to you, sir.”

Louis can hear Niall’s giggle from somewhere. It truly is an unfortunate name.

Ben has finally collected himself. “Just shut it, Carl. Police Constable Woodcock was invited to the set to ensure security matters, and she is now leading the investigation together with the help of Mrs. Fletcher.”

“What happened to Zayn?” Louis can’t help but ask, unsure if he really even wants to know.

“Mr Malik seems to have passed away on consequences of… a canine attack,” PC Woodcock starts unsurely.

“Canine attack?” Louis repeats slowly and subconsciously looks for Colin.

“Yes, it… We have taken the suspected attacker into custody for now.”

“So Colin,” Louis says flatly. “You’re saying Colin attacked Zayn.”

“He wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Harry says angrily. “You must be mistaken, he’s the sweetest thing, no fucking way he’d do anything to Zayn!”

“You seem very sure of that, Mr Styles. How can you be so sure about the dog?” PC Woodcock looks at Harry with narrowed eyes.

“I… I’ve spent a lot of time with Colin, from when we…” Harry stops to look at Louis. “From when I lived with them. The Winstons. At the attic,” he finishes quietly.

PC Woodcock nods, and her voice has gone a little softer. “I understand. It’s rarely the animal attacking on their own, so whilst it’s clear in the light of evidence and the... well, it’s clear that we do have the correct dog. But we are aware that the dog is most likely merely an accomplice, working on a person’s accord.”

“You’re saying it was a murder?” Louis stutters and the crowd makes a shocked noise as he finishes.

“Yes,” Aunt Jessie says neutrally. “No point in beating around the bush here. It looks like it was not an accident and as you’re aware, these grounds can only be accessed via a monitored gate. No outsiders were seen to enter or leave the site since when your crew started arriving two days ago, we have reason to suspect that the murderer is still on the premises.” She looks around slowly, as her words are starting to sink in.

“You’re saying one of us is the killer?” Harry confirms.

Aunt Jessie nods as Ben speaks again. “No one is allowed to leave. Mrs Fletcher and PC Woodcock will start interviewing you after breakfast.”

The words are met with protests of being innocent, claims of kidnapping and moans about wanting to go home.

“Fucking shut up, all of you!” Ben’s angry voice booms in the room. “Zayn’s dead. I’ve just lost my dog. One of you is a killer so _yes_ you’re stuck here for a while, it’s not like that is going to _kill_ you.”

\--

“Coffee?” Harry questions as Louis sits down next to him on a round table for two.

Louis looks down at his cup. It’s coffee, instead of the tea he thought he was pouring to the cup. “I… wasn’t thinking.”

Harry reaches out his hand, fingers briefly touching Louis’ fingers, wrapped around the cup. “Want me to get you tea?”

“Nah, it’s fine. Coffee’s better anyway, don’t think I can get a bite down.”

Harry pulls his hand away, sighing. “I know. I can’t… Feels like a dream, you know. As if I’d wake up at any moment.”

“Can’t believe we didn’t get to say goodbye to Colin,” Louis blurts out. He looks at Harry, shocked. “I mean… Or say goodbye to Zayn, of course.”

“I know,” Harry nods. “The idea of Zayn is just… too much. Like impossible to wrap my head around it. But Colin, like, that I can comprehend, but not seeing him and not having him over anymore and like, who’s going to eat all your cooking now?”

Louis can’t help but smile wistfully. Colin had spent several days in many occasions in their house, they were the Winstons’ go-to dog sitters and Colin had felt almost like their own. The thought of never giving him rubs or playing fetch or just cuddling made Louis feel physically hollow.

“And I feel so fucking guilty for crying about a dog.”

“May I?”

A gentle female voice makes Harry splutter his coffee, and he spills it more as he jumps up, face all flustered.

“Yes, of course, such an honour Mrs Fletcher, please, let me get you a chair,” Harry rushes his word in a mumble as he gets an extra chair from a nearby table, offering it to Aunt Jessie who sits down.

Louis struggles to keep his poker. “Aunt Jessie, meet Harry. A big fan.”

“The biggest,” Harry confirms as he takes Jessie’s hand and kisses it royally. “I love you. Uhm, your books, I mean, my mum always read them and I’ve read all of them so many times and…”

“Go on, Haz, tell about the scrapbook you have of the real cases Aunt Jessie worked on, too.”

Harry blushes. “Shut up,” he mumbles. He turns his look to Aunt Jessie, the redness on his face slightly paler now. “I don’t actually have a scrap book. It’s more like… a folder.”

“If he wasn’t a huge pop star, Harry here would want to solve murders,” Louis winks to Aunt Jessie.

“Just think I might be good at it,” Harry sounds defensive. “People seem to trust me quite easily.”

“People are dumb,” Louis teases.

Aunt Jessie laughs. “Now now, Louis, I’m sure Harry would be an excellent detective. And I happen to be a rather good judge of character. I’m very flattered to have such a young fan, Harry. No need to be embarrassed.”

Harry pretends to wipe his mouth, hiding his red-again face behind the napkin. He takes a moment to gain his composure.

“Mrs Fletcher…”

“Please, call me Aunt Jessie.”

Harry’s eyes lit up. “Aunt Jessie, is it absolutely certain that Colin killed Zayn?”

“Yes, I’m afraid,” Aunt Jessie takes a bite of her marmalade-laden toast. “He was caught, not red-handed but shall we say red-mouthed.”

Louis feels his eyes get wet. “And are they… Where is he now?”

Aunt Jessie gives him a look. “He’s under police custody. I appreciate he was dear to you boys, but he did attack a person.”

“I just…” Harry is absently sliding the last few pieces of his scrambled eggs around his plate with a fork. “He is so gentle. He’d never harm anyone. Like, once when he was over at ours, there was a baby rabbit in the garden and he just… came to get us, so we could take it to safety.”

“He didn’t even bark.”

“Well, he _did_ make a sound but it wasn’t like, menacing or anything, more like…”

“Like he was just telling us that something was up.”

Aunt Jessie looks from Louis to Harry, and back again. She stirs her tea with the spoon for a bit. “I wonder if…” She stops and starts again. “Apparently he ran to Ben, after the… deed was done. Ben told us he woke up to Colin barking frantically behind his door, and when he opened the door, Colin lead him outside.”

“To Zayn?” Louis feels sick again.

Aunt Jessie nods. “Yes. It seems the attack happened sometime between one and two at night, and the body was found at around half past two.”

“Found by Ben?”

“Found by Ben.”

Harry frowns. “It couldn’t have been… I went downstairs just before two, and I didn’t see or hear anything. It was dark and quiet, it had to be before that, or right after.”

Louis thinks he notices a slight shift in Aunt Jessie’s posture as she looks at Harry. “Are you quite sure of the time?”

“Yeh, I couldn’t sleep and I looked at the time, and it was maybe quarter to two? And then just after two when I got back into the room.”

“I can vouch for him, too. I woke up and it was around two, and he was back right after.”

“I see,” Aunt Jessie nods. “But you don’t know when he left the room?”

Harry goes pale as he looks at Louis. “I…”

“His side of the bed was still warm, so he couldn’t have been gone for more than a few minutes by then.” Louis notices a sharpness sneaking into his tone.

“I’m not accusing you of anything, of course,” Aunt Jessie says apologetically. “And you didn’t hear anything or see anything, Harry? You’re absolutely sure?”

“No, I…” Harry squints his brows together, deep in thought. “I didn’t. I’m sure.”

Aunt Jessie makes a non-committal sound. “Louis, you said you woke up – I seem to remember you sleep like a log.”

“I do, it’s just. Something stirred me awake.”

“And you don’t know what it was?”

“No, I… I dreamt of sirens. The fire engine kind, mind, not the water minxes.”

“Hmm,” Aunt Jessie says, deep in thought. She doesn’t say anything else as she finishes her tea. “I shall leave you to it then, will try to sneak in a quick smoke before we start talking to people. This Ben seems rather excited about the task,” Aunt Jessie rolls her eyes.

“And don’t look so shocked, Harry, I’d like to think I only practice this vice during stressful work. Fresh air makes me think better,” Aunt Jessie winks. “Would either want to join me?”

Louis nods, downing the remains of his coffee.

“Sure, I’ll just get my coat from the room, in case it’s cold,” Harry explains as he stands up.

“What he means is in case _I_ get cold,” Louis smiles to Aunt Jessie and then to Harry. “No but Haz, you gave your coat to Zayn last night, remember? Don’t think he gave it back.”

“Ah, true. I’ll just get it from his room, Liam should still be there. Not sure I want to see him right now, though,” Harry sounds doubtful. “I don’t… I don’t know what I could say or do for him.”

Aunt Jessie stops on her tracks. “Your coat… Is it a long one? Navy colour, golden buttons?”

“Yes?” Harry sounds unsure.

“It’s just, Mr Malik was wearing it when they found him, outside.” Aunt Jessie takes a long look at Harry, who seems to be rather confused. Louis feels like he’s missing something, something that’s hiding in plain sight.

“Please be extra careful, boys,” Aunt Jessie finally says. “I hope I’m very wrong,” she mumbles as they leave the breakfast room.

\--

“You know Haz, I’m rather impressed.”

Louis is lounging like a starfish on the bed; he’s been staring at the ceiling and refusing to think about Zayn whilst Harry took a shower. Apparently standing under running water calmed Harry down, and something as mundane as washing his hair took his thoughts away from the reality they were currently in.

“With what?”

“With you.”

“You’re always impressed with me,” Harry says cheerfully as he runs the towel through his curls one last time, before throwing the towel at Louis. “What with this time?”

“Of how little you were star struck with Aunt Jessie. You were quite composed after spilling all the coffee.”

“Well, you know,” Harry shrugs as he pulls up his jeans. “She seems the like of a lady who isn’t much for crazy fans. So I’ll just downplay that side and be all good and composed.”

“Whilst fanatically screaming inside?”

“Exactly.” Harry looks around. “Have you seen my sweater?”

“The blue one? You had it yesterday. Must be under the bed or something.”

Harry bends down, looking under the bed with no success. He gives up, digging out another shirt from his bag and then proceeding to pull Louis up from the bed. “Come on, we’re probably due to interrogation soon.”

Louis groans but lets himself be pulled up anyway. Harry opens the door, but stops still.

“What?” Louis follows Harry’s frozen eyes to the door handle; an old-fashioned golden one. Nothing spectacular.

“Remember when Colin was at ours for the first time, and we had to leave him for a bit?”

“Yeh, we closed him to the laundry room.”

“And you bet me the place would be a mess anyway when we’d get back? I quote, ‘ _he seems smart enough to open doors’_.”

“Yeh,” Louis chuckles fondly, “I gave him too much credit. He can’t open shit.”

Harry looks at Louis, his face resembling something of victorious. “You lost the bet because Colin couldn’t open doors.”

“I’m not sure this is really the time nor place to gloat about that.”

“Don’t you get it, Lou! He woke Ben up by barking behind his door. Ben had to get out of bed to open the door and let him in.”

“Yes, because he… can’t open doors?” Louis swears Harry is great but fuck him if he isn’t ridiculous sometimes.

“Exactly! How the hell was he even outside of Ben’s room, then? He couldn’t have run off all by himself. Someone must’ve opened the door for him. Ben always sleeps with Colin, he’d never have left him outside.”

Louis stares at Harry staring at him, his hand still on the door handle. Louis reckons he can hear the ticking sound their brains are currently making.

“So either someone let Colin out of the room on purpose, somehow not waking up sleeping Ben, lured Colin into killing Zayn….”

“…or Ben’s lying.”

\--

“Hiya Tommo,” Niall’s voice sounds miserable as he plops down to the sofa. “I’d like to make it known that this is absolutely the worst day of my life.”

“Full same, Nialler,” Louis sighs. Niall’s eyes are red and he reeks of whiskey, despite the faint scent of mint – most likely from toothpaste. “Have you spoken to them yet?”

“Yeh, just after Liam. They wanted him first, roommates and all. Poor lad, he didn’t stir when Zayn apparently went outside to smoke. Like it’s his best friend and his last words to him ever were ‘ _don’t you fucking snore then’._ Can you imagine?”

Louis can, unfortunately; he suddenly recollects all the many times his last words of the day to Harry have been moans about something or tired bickering. He makes a mental note to never say anything to Harry that he’d live to regret for all eternity, were those his last words.

“This is going to change everything, isn’t it?” Niall says unsurely.

It is, of course it is. Louis has barely functioned today, still unable to fathom that Zayn is actually gone. Looking far ahead to the future to think about what it means for them, to the band, seems wholly impossible and he’s happy to postpone it until further notice. The further the better.

“Let’s just make it out of here alive first, Nialler,” Louis fakes a worry-free smile and pats Niall’s thigh.

Aunt Jessie approaches them. “Louis, dear, could you come see us now? We’d like to talk to you and Harry together for a bit.”

“Sure,” Louis squeezes Niall’s thigh in a silent companionship one last time as he gets up from the sofa. Getting up, he sees something blue peek from under one armchair and bends to pick it up.

“He’s unreal,” Louis says out loud to no one.

“What was that, sorry?” Aunt Jessie asks.

Louis gestures at the sweater he’s holding. “Harry’s sweater. He couldn’t find it, don’t know how much he had to drink yesterday to forget he lost it here.”

Aunt Jessie’s expression turns serious. “Can I have a look?”

She examines the sweater, brushing some dust off it, and picks out something. “It’s ripped. See, here.” She shows the collar to Louis, a few strands of blue yarn clearly coming loose. She smells it, and then smells it again. “Oh dear.”

“What? Oh dear what?”

Aunt Jessie puts the sweater under Louis’ nose, suggesting him to smell it. He does – it smells, well, bad. Like…

“A dog’s breath.”

Aunt Jessie nods. “I’m afraid so. Oh, how I wished I was wrong!”

“Wrong about what? Aunt Jessie? What’s going on?” Louis can hear his voice get more panicked as a very gloomy thought starts to form in his head.

Aunt Jessie looks at her sympathetically. “I think Zayn’s murder was an accident. It wasn’t Zayn they tried to kill.”

“But Harry,” Louis nods as realization dawns to him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: Death pays a re-visit.

“I couldn’t train a dog for shit! _Everyone_ knows I’m a cat person!”

Louis can hear Harry’s shrill voice rising even before Aunt Jessie opens the door to the room, where the interrogations, to think of a better word, are taking place.

The room seems to be a study or a library of sorts; decorated in dark tones, wood used overbearingly as a material. Ben, the police woman and what is surely an empty chair for Aunt Jessie are behind a wide desk, with two chairs set in front of it. Harry is sitting on the other and the other one is empty.

The back of Harry’s head has never looked as _dear_ to Louis as it does now; his curls have gotten longer than they have ever been before. Louis doesn’t realise he’s rushed to hug Harry before Ben clears his throat obnoxiously. Louis loosens his grip around Harry, but leaves his hands on Harry’s shoulders, squeezing tightly. Louis feels Harry’s skin radiate warmth, feeling very much here and _alive_ , and nothing else really matters right now. Harry doesn’t seem to mind, more so Louis can feel Harry relax and his muscles de-tense as Louis rests his palms on his shoulders.

“Boys,” Ben says with the bored voice he often addresses them with. “You spent less than thirty minutes apart, surely it can’t be that unbearable.”

“Excuse me, Ben, Louis’ reaction is quite understandable,” Aunt Jessie starts sternly. “We have reason to believe Zayn was not the intended victim, but Harry.”

Harry gasps, looking up at Louis with shock written all over his face. Aunt Jessie proceeds to exhibit the blue sweater and explain how Zayn was wearing Harry’s coat when the dog had sprung lethally upon him. Ben is turning more pale the longer Aunt Jessie keeps talking, and PC Woodcock is starting to look unwell, glancing at Harry. She looks relieved as her phone starts ringing and she excuses herself, leaving the room to take the call.

“I’m not leaving you out of my sight,” Louis tells Harry in a low voice. “I swear I’d never…”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” Harry smiles at Louis but it doesn’t look convincing. “I’ll be a thorn by your side until you die.”

“Not the best lyrics to quote right now, Haz.”

Harry doesn’t get a chance to reply, as PC Woodcock comes back into the room.

“Right. So. They’ve done tests to the dog, and it seems that prior to the attack, he has been exposed to a special kind of Lyme Disease vaccination that, upon research, has been shown to cause aggressive behaviour in dogs. Apparently this specific substance can fully affect a dog’s behaviour, usually with very aggressive consequences.”

“We haven’t… Colin went to the vet months ago,” Ben stutters.

PC Woodcock nods. “That would support the lab findings. It seems that the substance was given to him orally, as no signs of jabs can be found, and that it was given to enhance his… unlikely behaviour towards Mr Malik, just before the attack took place.”

“I knew Colin would never hurt anyone, not on purpose,” Louis sighs with relief. He’s unsure why he even feels relieved; it’s not like it changes anything.

PC Woodcock turns her attention to Louis, as if only now remembering he and Harry are in the room. “Oh, my apologies, I believe we haven’t been introduced. PC Woodcock,” she extends her hand over the desk to shake Louis’ hand.

“Louis Tomlinson.”

“Nice to meet you, Lewis.”

“Uhm, it’s… Actually it’s Louis.”

“Like the king?”

“Like Louis Tomlinson,” Harry blurts out.

The officer looks embarrassed. “Right. Of course. Well,” she looks at Aunt Jessie as if asking for help.

“I believe we’re finished with you now, Harry. Thank you for answering our questions,” Aunt Jessie says. She looks at PC Woodcock who nods. “Now, I would suggest you be extra careful for the time being, in the light of this new evidence. But please, do not discuss the possibility of someone mistaking Zayn for you with anyone. If it is indeed what happened, we do not want to reveal to the murderer that we are aware of their intentions.”

“Okay,” Harry nods. He sounds quiet; small and scared, even if he’s trying to appear cheerful, Louis knows him better than that.

“Ben, could you… Walk Harry out, maybe? Take him to Nialler. Tell him not to leave his side?” Louis asks hesitantly. The distance from the study to the main hall is barely a minute, but Louis can’t help but think of the dark corners and looming stair cases. He’s certain an actual killing could be done in a matter of seconds.

“Sure,” Ben nods as he leaves the room with Harry, patting his back in what Louis assumes is a comforting try.

As the door closes behind them, Louis finally sits down. “Have you talked to Ben yet?” he asks the two women opposite him. “About last night. His whereabouts.”

PC Woodcock looks surprised, as if the idea hadn’t even occurred to her. “No, we… Ehm. We’ll discuss with him last, after everyone else.”

“Do you have any particular reason to query that, Louis?” Aunt Jessie frowns.

“It’s just, a bit suspicious, Colin always slept with him but he can’t open doors, so either someone let him out of the room and managed to not wake up Ben, or then, Ben is lying about…” Louis stops still, standing up so forcefully that the chair almost falls down. “Fuck. And I just told him to go with Harry, shit shit shit,” he mutters as he dashes out of the room, not bothering to answer PC Woodcock’s requests to come back and explain.

Louis jogs all the way back to the main hall, letting out a relieved sigh as he sees Harry safe and sound next to Niall, with Ben walking away from them.

“Louis?” Ben looks annoyed.

“I just, uhm, forgot to tell Harry something.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “I fucking swear if it’s _I love you_ or something, I’ve had it with you. You two are bloody impossible, you have no idea what’s at stake here…”

“Oh yeah?” Louis snaps and stands up straighter, trying to appear taller and more menacing than he is. “Something more important than Harry’s life?”

Ben closes his mouth, face turning slightly apologetic. “You’re right. Absolutely right. Follow me when you’re done.”

Louis stomps over to Harry, trying to make each step heavy enough for Ben to understand how much of a twat he’d just been to Louis.

“Pretend I’m saying something super important and nod slowly,” Louis leans over to whisper to Harry who, trusting as he is, nods slowly. Louis turns to look at Niall. “Nialler, I trust you to not let Curly out of your sight.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Niall raises his hand as a salute.

After saluting Niall back, Louis turns around and follows Ben back to the room.

Louis answers questions, feeling immensely unhelpful throughout – he was asleep, woke up, knows nothing, heard nothing (at least that he’d remember) and saw nothing.

“Can you think of anyone who may have had access to your room? Mr Styles did take off his sweater in your room, he didn’t just leave it in the main hall?” PC Woodcock queries.

“No, no one’s been to our room, I don’t think. Unless maybe like, cleaners?”

“Not possible,” Ben shakes his head. “We, err, didn’t book in any cleaners. Wanted to save a bit of money. Thought you could clean up after yourselves.”

“Ah. Of course. In that case, no, I’ve got no clue who could’ve nicked his sweater.”

“And you, uhm, can vouch that Harry wasn’t away from your room for more than a few minutes?” Ben queries, looking down at his notes.

“I’ve told you already, barely five minutes,” Louis is getting tired.

“So if Harry was away… No one can really confirm you were in the room, can they?”

Louis blinks. “What?”

Ben coughs. “I mean, it’s… You have no alibi, either. Not really.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Louis almost spits out. “You’re saying _I_ killed Zayn?”

“No, of course not,” Ben stirs uncomfortably on his seat. “I’m just saying that you don’t really have an alibi.”

“No, Ben, I guess I don’t _really_ have an alibi.” Louis glances at Aunt Jessie who is keeping her eyes down, taking notes and pretending like she isn’t listening. “Much like you don’t, huh?”

Ben squints his eyes and for a moment, Louis thinks he might reach over the desk and slap him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” Louis realises he feels pissed enough to not care. “You don’t have an alibi either. You found Zayn’s dead body. Colin’s your dog. He trusts you more than anyone.”

“Followed closely by you and Harry!”

“Why the fuck would I kill Harry? He’s my best mate!”

“And why the hell would _I_ kill Harry? He’s the biggest star out of all of you!” Ben booms, having lost any sort of manners or control of himself.

Louis’ mouth slacks open at the shock – it’s not as if he didn’t know Ben always thought so, but hearing it is… something else. PC Woodcock looks like she might reach out for a panic button if such existed, and Aunt Jessie is biting the end of her pencil, eyes twinkling in interest as she’s looking at Ben and Louis in turns.

“If I wanted to kill Harry, I wouldn’t have failed,” Louis finally spits between his teeth. He sees PC Woodcock nod as if this made perfect sense somehow.

“Gentlemen, please,” Aunt Jessie finally speaks. “As uncalled for and unreasonable as _both_ of your last comments were, I’d dare say that there are underlying truths in both. I believe Mr Tomlinson here has convinced us of his best intentions or at least a lack of any murderous intentions towards Mr Styles.” She looks at both Ben and PC Woodcock. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

PC Woodcock agrees. Ben keeps his eyes downcast for a while longer, and then looks up. “Louis, I… I was so out of place. I’d never think you’d hurt Harry, or Zayn for that matter, or any one of the lads. And I… What I said, of course I don’t hold any of you higher than anyone else. I’m sorry.”

He sounds sincere enough for Louis to nod, accept his apology and leave the room not believing for a second that Ben doesn’t think Harry is better than the rest of them.

He finds Harry and Niall outside, having a cigarette.

“Safe and sound, as promised,” Niall points to Harry as he spots Louis.

“Thanks Niall,” Louis smiles as he lights a cigarette of his own. “How’s Liam doing, have you seen him?”

“We went to check up on him a while ago, he was sleeping.” Harry has an afterthought. “Or pretending to be asleep.”

Niall yawns. “That’s an amazing idea, actually. Sleep. Since Hazza here has his usual guardian back. I’m so fucking tired, I think I’m hungover from this morning.”

“Are you…” Harry considers for a while before he continues. “Do you think maybe you should move to Liam’s room? Don’t think he should be alone right now. Or that you should, for that matter.”

Niall looks at Harry, then breaks into a small but genuine smile, ruffling Harry’s hair. “Yes mum,” he says as a way of bidding them goodbye.

Harry and Louis stay outside, standing in silence, cigarettes long ago stubbed. The air feels refreshing, as if it’s filling Louis with some sort of comfort of how everything will eventually be maybe not fine, but better.

“Do you really think someone is trying to kill me?” Harry finally breaks the silence. He’s drawing circles to the ground with the tip of his boot, not looking at Louis.

“I don’t know, Haz,” Louis replies honestly. “Some stuff is pointing into that direction.”

“Why would anyone want to kill me?” Harry looks at Louis and he looks… sad. Not scared, but sad. As if the idea that someone in the world could dislike him so much, or that he’d done so much harm to someone that they’d want to hurt him, is harder to bare than the idea of possibly being killed.

“Bets me, honestly. You’re like, the best person ever,” Louis says as he pulls blushing Harry to a hug.

That’s how Aunt Jessie finds them.

“Gentlemen,” she says cheerfully, “would you like to join me for a walk?”

They’ve barely taken ten steps towards the garden as Aunt Jessie speaks up in a low voice. “I need you to be absolutely honest with me,” she says as she looks behind her shoulder towards the main door, seeming relieved at finding no one around. “How likely would it be for anyone to actually be after Harry?” 

Louis looks at Harry, and tries to read his mind. After feeling he got it right, he answers. “Not likely at all.”

“But it’s possible?”

“I guess…” Harry starts carefully. “I mean, the world is full of crazy people.”

“But you can’t think of anything who’d actually have anything against you? Someone who is here now?”

“No, I… No. Don’t think so.”

Aunt Jessie almost looks disappointed. “I’m just… So perplexed. About the psychology of this. Then, would you say Zayn would be more likely to have a nemesis?”

“A nemesis,” Louis can’t help but chuckle. “That sounds so… grand. No, I don’t think he had a _nemesis_ and it’s the same as with Haz, he knew everyone and I doubt anyone had beef enough with him to go and kill him off.”

Aunt Jessie taps her lips with her index finger, looking deep in thought. “I just can’t help but think of what happened with you and Ben, Louis.”

Harry turned to look at Louis, alarmed. “What happened with you and Ben, Lou?”

“Nothing,” Louis shrugs, “just a bit of banter.”

“Banter about how neither has an alibi but also neither has a reason to kill you,” Aunt Jessie explains helpfully, completely disregarding Louis’ looks begging her to shut it.

Harry trips on a small branch on the ground, shocked by what he’s hearing. “I know Lou would never, ever, try to hurt me.”

“But you’re not sure about Ben?” Aunt Jessie frowns.

“You heard what he said,” Louis says, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “Harry is the cash cow, the golden goose. His ticket to wherever he wants to go. He wouldn’t risk that for anything.”

“Come on, Lou, surely he didn’t mean…”

“You weren’t there, were you! That’s _exactly_ what he meant, he said it clearly enough. Aunt Jessie heard it too,” Louis gestures at her.

Aunt Jessie nods, and Harry seems to shrink a little in front of their eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Nothing new to me. Everyone can see he fucking worships you, Haz. Everyone but apparently you.”

“Worships?” Aunt Jessie sounds alert.

Harry starts to say something but Louis interrupts him. “Yeh, worships. He’s been fawning about Harry since the start.”

“So that could potentially… I mean, people react differently… Yes, yes it’s possible, but is it probable….” Aunt Jessie starts mumbling to herself, speeding up the pace of her steps. She turns around to look at Louis and Harry. “Oh, no need to follow me, I need to do some thinking. I’ll catch up with you later!”

Harry and Louis look at each other and turn around, starting to walk back to Dashington Hall.  

Aunt Jessie has an afterthought. “And boys, please be careful!” She shouts at them.

“You really didn’t need to throw Ben under the bus like that,” Harry sounds a bit miffed as they walk towards the manor.

“I didn’t _throw him under the bus_ ,” Louis mocks Harry’s tone. “Bloody hell Haz, literally everyone knows he’s got this weird thing about you and you’ve always been to blind to see. He doesn’t give a rat’s ass if us four are there or not, as long as you’re around.”

“I’m not…” Harry stops and sighs, Louis stopping with him. “I’m not too blind to see. I know what he’s like. I’m not an idiot, Lou.”

The confession takes Louis by surprise. He’s been trying to make Harry see how Ben’s been a tad creepy around him for ages now, and Harry’s just brushed him off; laughed about it and said he’s not any more special than the rest of them.

“You’re not?”

“No, I’m really not. What was I supposed to do, though? He’s never actually done anything, and, I mean, what should I have done? Complained with no evidence and you know the label loves him, they’d end us or found someone even worse. Or should I’ve acknowledged the shit he was stirring, making it seem like I _agree_ with him?”

“You could’ve… I don’t know. Agreed with me, at least.”

“So you could’ve gone off on him?”

“I wouldn’t have…” Louis can’t even finish the sentence; he’s not a liar after all. “You’re too good, Haz. People take advantage of being nice. Just don’t want you to... Get hurt.”

“I know,” Harry says softly. “I don’t want you to get hurt either. Even if you think you’re protecting me.”

They walk in companionable silence until they reach the edge of the garden.

“Do you think Ben might actually want to kill me?” Harry hesitates.

Louis considers. “I don’t know. He got so angry with me when I said he didn’t have an alibi, I’ve never seen him like that.”

“I can imagine, I think,” Harry says quietly. His tone concerns Louis, the way he sounds unsure and a little scared – not sad anymore, but scared.

Harry clears his throat. “When we, uhm… When we decided we would carry on living together, and just start saying I live with them, he tried to convince me to actually move in.”

“What?? You never said anything to me!”

“I didn’t want to, he was so… adamant about it, and he got so pissed off with me when I refused, and I just. Didn’t want you to know.”

 “You should’ve told me, I could’ve…”

“Yeh, Lou, I know. You could’ve anything, that’s why I didn’t tell you. I was well okay to handle it by myself, and he apologised to me later anyway so,” Harry shrugs. “But I know now how scary he can be.”

Louis presses his face to his hands and lets out a frustrated groan. “I need a shower. A cold one to cool off so I don’t go and feed his jaw to him.”

Harry tries to stifle his laugh, failing.

\--

“Can I borrow your head scarf?”

“Sure,” Harry says as he rummages through his bag. “Hmm,” he turns it around. “Guess I forgot it home.”

“Oh well,” Louis says as he’s changing to a clean set of clothes. “I’ll just let my hair dry all over the place and it’ll be awful and I’ll blame you.”

“Of course. It’s what I deserve.”

“You deserve _worse,_ ” Louis gasps as he realises the window is slightly ajar. “Why the fuck is the window open? Why are you the way you are? Maybe you’re trying to kill _me_ with all this infatuation to draft!” He turns to look at Harry who, now that he pays more attention, does seem a bit flustered.

Harry knows him well enough to foresee the jump with which Louis lands upon him on the bed, shielding his body with his hands and legs. Louis is just about to pull out proper wrestling moves, when a shrilling yell comes from somewhere nearby. Louis and Harry freeze. They look at each other, and Louis can see the fear in Harry’s eyes that is probably reflected in his own. A shriek like that never bodes well, and as they scamper up from the bed, main thought running in Louis’ mind isn’t really ‘what’ but ‘who’.

They run to the hallway, just in time to see Niall throwing up by the door to his and Liam’s room.

Liam’s body is still warm when they reach it, lying on the bed still looking just like Liam, despite Harry’s head scarf wrapped around his bruised throat.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO, who dun it? Place your bets! 
> 
> We are about half-way; I'd love to hear any thoughts and guesses - and please, if you have any feedback on mistakes, I'd be happy to hear them x


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My my my, they are dropping like flies!

“Ben, _mate_ , I think you should either stop pretending to be a detective or pretend better,” Harry snaps with rare venom in his voice.

They’re sitting in the study again, seated opposite Aunt Jessie, Ben and PC Woodcock, and Ben’s been on a mission for the last thirty minutes. His mind seems to be set on only two possible options for the course of events; either Louis and Harry killed Liam, or they are lying about how they changed rooms so that whoever killed Liam, was actually aiming for Harry and failed. Again.

“For the umpteenth time – we were in our room, and Liam was in his. Sleeping, Niall said, and he was the last one to see Liam alive. We also did not in fact kill Liam, or Zayn, before you ask again,” Louis explains with all the patience he can muster.

“Not making promises about not killing you, though,” Harry mutters under his breath, words directed to Ben but only audible to Louis.

“And when in your room, you were both together for the whole time?”

“Yes,” Harry says immediately, earning a puzzled look from Louis.

They weren’t together for the whole time, the thing is. Louis had taken a shower and when he got back, the window had been open – he shivers remembering the breeze on his skin, warm from the hot shower – and Harry had seemed. Well. Flustered.

“I, we, uhm…” Louis tries to will Harry to look at him, searching for any cue. He gets none. “Yes. Together the whole time.”

Ben squints his eyes. “Doing what?”

“Banging, what the fuck do you think?” Louis snaps.

“Fine,” Ben says. “Point taken. None of my business.”

“ _Still_ none of your business.”

PC Woodcock clears her throat. She had a very white complexion when Louis first saw her, but somehow she’s managed to get even paler as the day has been going by. “Well. I think we have everything we need. You can go.”

Harry jumps up from his chair, Louis following suit. As the door closes behind them, Louis grabs Harry’s hand, pulling him into a low-lit corner in the hallway.

“What the hell, Haz?” He whispers in haste. “You made me lie!”

Harry shrugs, avoiding Louis’ eyes again. “It’s not a big deal.”

“If it’s not a big deal, why’d you lie? We _weren’t_ together for the whole time!”

“Come on, Lou.” Harry pulls his arm away from Louis’ grip. “Technically we were. I didn’t leave the room, you didn’t leave the room. Just cutting short unnecessary questions that aren’t going to help anyone. Aren’t going to bring anyone back. What does it matter?”

Louis swallows, avoiding Harry’s eyes.

“Lou?” Harry’s face goes from confusion to shock, his eyes then glinting in anger until his expression settles on sadness. “You don’t think… You don’t think _I_ have something to hide?”

“No, of course not!” Louis rubs his eyes. “Sorry Haz, just… feels like I’m going insane. This place is doing my head in.”

“You’re not the only one,” Harry says softly, opening his arms to pull Louis into a hug as the door of the study opens to the hallway, Aunt Jessie walking briskly to them.

“Harry, dear? May I have a word?”

“Sure,” Harry says, lowering his hands and turning his attention to her.

Aunt Jessie looks at Harry and then Louis, who’s waiting to hear what she has to say. “I mean, in private.”

Harry looks around. “We are in private. No one can hear us here.”

“No, I mean…” Aunt Jessie is taking a moment to choose the right words. “In private with only you, Harry.”

Harry follows Aunt Jessie through the glass double doors leading to the inner courtyard. Louis almost wants to laugh at how much of a lost puppy Harry is resembling, but he manages to keep his composure.

\--

Louis would laugh at the irony of the situation, if it wasn’t so utterly morbid. For the second time in the same day, just one day, he’s feeling completely numb – except for random thoughts venturing to this mind. Weird, light thoughts that surely are fully unsuitable to think about when one has just lost one of their best friends. _Another_ one of their best friends. In just over twelve hours.

And yet. Here Louis is, unable to cry, unable to fathom how is this real life and when the _fuck_ is he finally going to wake up; he’s observing people, finding some strange solace in watching the different way people react while he himself is unable to. As if the variety of post-shock behaviour is somehow making him live through all types of behaviours, and thus being normal. More normal than this strange numbness he is feeling.

Niall has turned hysterical; he’s foregone using glasses altogether and is now drinking whiskey straight from the bottle. He’s on the phone with his mum, telling her that he’s going to bloody die in this godforsaken place, hiccupping every once in a while, to the point that Ben snatches the phone from his hand and talks sensibly (as if anything makes sense, really) to Niall’s mum to calm him down.

“No, no, of course, I understand…” Ben says. “I’m sure you know your son by now, Maura, the boys are just playing dares and having a few too many… Yes, _of course_ it was Louis’s idea… Yes, nothing to worry about. You’ll have him home soon enough to give him a proper bollocking! Bye now, take care. Yes, I’ll let him know,” Ben finishes the call and pockets Niall’s phone.

Louis’ eyes meet Ben’s. It’s almost haunting, Louis notices, how Ben’s usual dark features seem to have gotten even darker since this morning. As if his stubble has grown a few inches, his eyes with this new spark of something… threatening, and at the same time, vulnerable. As if he’s on his last nerve.

“What?” Ben challenges Louis. “We can’t have the word get around, two bodies, are you insane? Do you _want_ the media and hysterical girls come running here?”

Louis finds he has nothing to say, he just watches as Ben sighs, the noise sounding desperate, and rubs his hand with his face.

“It’s alright, Tommo, it’ll be okay,” Ben then says, trying to muster some consolation into his voice. It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to convince Louis.

Ben flops down on the sofa next to Niall, taking the bottle from his hand and taking a big gulp, shivering as the burn of alcohol hits his throat. He stays seated for a few seconds, and then gets up, walking away.

Harry hasn’t said a word since he came back to Louis after talking to Aunt Jessie. His knees are pulled up to his chest, his arms crossed around his knees and his head resting down - a very loud message to the outside world that he’s not here right now. No one’s dared to say a word to him, or try to approach him in any way. That includes Louis; however his thigh is touching Harry’s, and Louis thinks that’s enough for now. Harry hasn’t pulled away.

“What, uhm, what did Aunt Jessie want?” Louis starts conversationally, testing the waters.

Harry doesn’t reply, only his shoulders rise a little, marking a shrug.

Suddenly a havoc rises by the front door. The ruckus makes Louis flinch, and Harry finally lifts his head up. His eyes aren’t red but his face looks puffy, Louis notices before his attention is pulled back to by the door.  

“You can’t keep us here!” Carl, that camera ass-istant is yelling at Ben, his thick arms swinging around. “I’m not going to sit here and wait to be the next one to die! I haven’t killed anyone, let me go before I actually start!” His fists are punching the air, trying to reach Ben.

Even with his impressively muscly build, Ben is helpless against Carl who seems to be steaming ahead with pure adrenaline. Carl grabs a vase from a table and throws it to the floor, water and white lilies spilling around. Everyone seems to be as equally helpless as Ben, as no one dares to move and approach them. Sitting still, everyone is watching horrified as the two men carry on arguing.

Well, everyone else but Aunt Jessie. She’s taking careful but resolute steps towards Carl. Louis can’t make out her words quiet words to Carl, quiet as if she’s approaching a wild animal. For a moment Louis fears Carl might have a go at his aunt as well – he starts to get up, but then Carl’s body language changes, deflates like when air is let out of an inflatable bouncy castle. Aunt Jessie takes him by his hand and pats it comfortingly, nodding to PC Woodcock who follows them towards the breakfast room.

The sofa dips under Louis. Harry has got up.

“I’m going to bed,” Harry says, voice hoarse, like he hasn’t used it for a few hours. Which he hasn’t.

“Okay,” Louis gets up to follow Harry, almost bumping into Harry’s back as he stills.

“You don’t need to come.”

Louis huffs. “As if I’m letting you out of my sight, I told you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to.”

Harry turns to look at Louis, and Louis lifts his chin up. Harry’s an idiot if he doesn’t recognise Louis’ most stubborn face, or if he thinks he can persuade Louis to change his mind.

Harry eventually shrugs. “Suit yourself, then,” his voice lacks any emotion as he turns around and walks back to their room, Louis not a mere step behind him.

Harry gets undressed, tossing his clothes wherever as Louis locks the door, checks it, doublechecks it and puts the extra lock on. He checks the door one last time before he feels safe enough. Harry’s sitting on the edge of the bed in his boxers, eyes staring at the floor. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look up at Louis, and Louis has to really listen carefully to make sure he can even hear Harry breathe.

Louis lets him be as he gets ready for bed. Snuggling under his duvet, feeling his limbs get heavy like led as he lets the warm, soft white linen surround him. Harry finally seems to get under covers as well, his back turned to Louis. Louis turns the lights off from the switch near his head, and the room gets dark. It’s either intimidating, or comforting. Louis isn’t sure.

He lies in the dark, strangely attuned to how tired his body is getting, feeling every bit of himself prickle. The only sound in the room is Harry’s breathing and it sounds a little laborious, as if Harry has to focus on remembering how to breathe.

He gets like that sometimes, when he’s trying to calm himself down from a looming panic attack. Usually it’s just before a show or seeing an especially nasty lie spread about him, but Louis knows the signs.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks quietly, despite knowing how idiotic it sounds. Nothing is okay, nothing will be okay for a very long time. He knows it’s stupid to even ask but he does anyway.

Harry’s nod is so small Louis almost misses it, but only almost.

\--

Harry is definitely not okay, Louis realises as he wakes up with a halt in the middle of the night, to the sounds of Harry crying and catching his breath, trying to stay quiet by covering his mouth with the corner of his duvet but the lack of air making him heave even louder.

“Haz, love,” Louis says as he crawls closer to Harry, his arms wrapping around him. Harry’s skin is burning hot, and he’s shivering, with goosebumps breaking down his arms.

“It’s my fault,” Harry manages to choke out in-between sobs. 

“Hey now,” Louis whispers softly, wrapping his hands tighter around Harry. “Nothing’s your fault, don’t be silly,” he tells Harry as he rubs gentle circles on his back.

Harry hiccups. “It is, don’t lie, I know it is. Liam and Zayn are dead and it’s my fault,” he breaks down to a desperate cry.

“It’s not your fault,” Louis presses a kiss on Harry’s sweaty temple and squeezes him closer. “Shh now, love, try to calm down. Breathe for me. Can you breathe for me?” He asks Harry gently, a hand still on his back.

“I don’t want to breathe for you!” Harry chokes out, nose running snotty. “They’ll never breathe again, they died because of me!”

“Okay, no breathing” Louis offers as he reaches out to Harry’s nightstand, pulling a few tissues from a box of tissues. “Could you blow your nose instead?” He holds the tissue on Harry’s nose and waits.

Harry finally focuses his eyes and looks at Louis, eyes red and so puffy they’re barely half-open slits anymore.

“Just blow,” Louis suggests kindly. “You can do it, I know you can.”

And Harry blurts out a laugh, looking positively horrified at the sound escaping his mouth and then takes the tissue from Louis’ fingers and blows his nose. “Feeling very accomplished now,” he says with embarrassment in his voice, as he hiccups and sounds a little steadier. “Blew my nose almost all by myself,” Harry throws the used tissue to the floor and takes another one, wiping his face from all the tears and snot.

Louis shuffles, trying to get up from the bed when Harry grabs his ankle so hard it almost hurts.

“Where are you going?” Harry’s eyes look panicked.

“Just going to get you a glass of water,” Louis explains and gestures towards the bathroom.

Harry’s grip eases and he lets Louis go.

“I’m just here,” Louis tells him as he walks to the bathroom, takes a glass from the counter and fills it with water as cold as the tab allows. “Right here with you,” he smiles as he comes back to the bed, offering the glass to Harry.

Harry’s throat makes loud gulping sounds as he downs the glass in one go, and then takes a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly. “Thank you, Lou.”

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yeh,” Harry says but then stops to think. “No,” he admits. “I mean, I’m not as panicky anymore but…. Lou. I mean what I said,” Harry looks at Louis seriously, sadly. “Liam and Zayn are dead because of me.”

“They’re not dead because of you,” Louis tells Harry softly, brushing a curl off his forehead.

Harry shakes his head, refusing to agree. “No, they are. You said it yourself, whoever is doing all of this is after me. It should’ve been me.”

“That’s not… That doesn’t make sense, Haz. There’s nothing you could’ve done to change anything, you’re not going to like… Offer yourself up.”

Harry’s quiet so long it scares Louis. “Haz?”

“Sorry,” Harry shakes his head as if his mind is returning from somewhere far away. “I don’t… Maybe I should.”

“Should what?”

“Try to… Talk to the killer. Lure them in?” Harry looks at Louis unsurely.  

“You bloody idiot, Haz. You’re not…” Louis lets out a frustrated yell and realises he’s stood up, and is now stomping back and forth at the end of the bed. “Of course you’re not going to offer yourself up! Or have a talk! What, you think someone who just fucking strangled Liam is going to be all happy just having a nice chat with you, huh? All fine and dandy after you two have a cuppa and talk it out!”

“Don’t yell at me,” Harry pleads.

“Apparently I need to! Haz,” Louis stops, crawling back to the bed and taking Harry’s sweaty hands in his. “Someone has killed two people. Our friends. This fucking maniac is most likely wanting to kill you. Nothing, _nothing_ , about any of this is your fault.”

“But if…”

“No. No buts, no ifs. Someone being crazy is not your fault. Don’t blame yourself for anything, there is absolutely nothing you could’ve done to stop this.” Louis looks at Harry intensely for minutes, trying to convey telepathically what his stupid best fucking friend in the whole world seems to not understand. How could Harry ever, ever think any of this is his fault?

Because it’s Harry, that’s why. This is what he does, Louis knows – holds himself responsible for any sadness people around him might feel, and holds himself responsible for making sure no one around him could ever be unhappy.

“I’m not going to lose you, ever, I’ve decided long ago I’m never going to lose you,” Louis tells Harry and finally Harry nods.

“Okay. Not my fault.”

\--

They both have a restless night. They’ve shared a bed enough times to have become attuned to each other, and the way Harry tosses around restlessly and barely falls into proper sleep, has Louis twisting and turning in a haze of half-sleep, half-awake throughout the night.

“Morning.”

“Morning. Not a good morning?”

“No,” Louis sighs. “Or I don’t know, no one has died yet today. Maybe that’s a good sign?”

“Don’t jinx it, Lou,” Harry warns him lightly as he stretches his arms, twisting his upper body before getting up. “Now I’m expecting someone to shriek at any given moment.”

Louis fights his sudden desire to shriek, and then mentally kicks himself. He has always known his sense of humour can be questionable at times and downright dark at others.

Harry looks at him, with the look he often seems to give Louis – a bored look on the surface, but a conspiratorial twitch in the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks for not shrieking, you dick.”

“You’re welcome,” Louis offers generously. He watches Harry get dressed and then joins him in the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“What, uhm,” Louis tries to sound light as he’s brushing what is becoming a sore wisdom tooth, “what did Aunt Jessie want with you? Yesterday?”

Harry spits out his toothpaste, taking water on his hand and rinsing his mouth. “Nothing important,” he says eventually, drying his mouth to a wash cloth. “Don’t worry about it.”

Now Louis definitely worries about it. He nods however, making Harry think he won’t.

“Right, I need a dump. You staying or going?” Louis says conversationally, deserving a gentle slap on his bicep as Harry leaves the bathroom.

“Do you think we could use the kitchen?” Harry asks Louis as Louis re-enters the room, morning business taken care of.

“What, here?”

“Yeh. I feel like I… need a distraction.”

“Ah,” realisation dawns to Louis. “You need to stress bake.” He’s no stranger to Harry’s habit of stress baking, and certainly not opposed to it.

\--

“Is that apple crumble I smell?” Aunt Jessie sniffs the air as she walks into the kitchen. “What a delicious surprise!”

“Harry’s a bit of a kitchen fiend,” Louis tells her proudly, swinging his legs as he’s sitting on one of the many kitchen counters. He has just finished licking the last bits of the crumple mix from the bowl he stole off Harry.

(Or the bowl Harry voluntarily gave him, knowing what he’s like.)

Aunt Jessie laughs. “Well, I didn’t suspect it was out of your labour.”

“I just… Needed a distraction,” Harry explains, blushing slightly. “Maybe it’ll distract the others too, in a nice way.”

“That’s very kind of you, Harry,” Aunt Jessie says as she sits down by a small table. She looks around the kitchen cautiously, and then gets up and walks back to the door she just came through, closing it. “How are you boys doing? I mean, how are you _really_?”

“You know,” Louis shrugs. “Trying not to think.”

“But have you? Done any thinking?” Aunt Jessie sounds like she’d prefer to be insistent but is withholding herself.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks slowly.

Louis gets it. “You mean if we reckon Ben might still be the one after Harry.”

Aunt Jessie makes a noncommittal sound. “Correct.”

“I don’t know,” Louis starts. “I mean, we’re all going a bit insane here, but Ben’s definitely… Been worse than before.”

“Has he tried to approach you, Harry?”

“No, he hasn’t. And like, Louis has been shadowing me like a, well, a shadow I guess, so he hasn’t had any chance to, really.”

Aunt Jessie nods, approvingly. “Good. Well done, Louis. I don’t like to brag about my instincts but if I were to brag, unfortunately I don’t think we’ve seen the last of this yet.”

Louis shares a worried look with Harry. “I’m not taking my eyes off you.”

“And Harry shouldn’t take his eyes off you, either,” Aunt Jessie says seriously. “I’m not quite sure what the killer wants, what’s their aim, what their motivation is.”

“I’ll tell you,” Louis huffs. “It’s Ben and he wants Harry to have no one but him. Or I don’t know, maybe he needs Harry’s muscles to help him build a shrine for him.”

Harry lifts up his left arm, kissing his bicep with a loud smack, and Louis tosses an apple at him.

Aunt Jessie says something to herself, perhaps an ‘I see’, Louis isn’t sure, and then speaks louder. “I just don’t understand why Liam, too. Surely Ben would’ve…”

“Because he’s crazy, Aunt Jessie! Killer’s looks, killer’s mind.”

Aunt Jessie looks unconvinced, rubbing her temples with her fingers.

“Right, I think this is done,” Harry interrupts as he opens the oven, reaches out for oven mittens and takes the tray out. “Just need to let it cool down for a bit.”

The smell of baked sugar and butter, lingering together with the crisp scent of apple and cinnamon, fills the kitchen. For a moment, Louis feels comforted, as if he’s in a home away from home. Feels like everything will be okay, eventually.

Aunt Jessie excuses herself to pop into the little old aunties room before indulging in the tasty treat.

Louis looks around the kitchen. “Haz?”

“Yeh?” Harry is setting a pile of cake plates next to the crumble.

“Where’s the custard?”

“Custard?”

“Or, you know, whipped cream or ice cream. I’m not fussed.”

Harry chuckles. “Alright, your high loutenance. I’ll see if there’s anything around. Can you go tell everyone that dessert is served?”

Louis heads out of the kitchen, bumping into Ben and PC Woodcock, gesturing them to go help themselves – Harry had found a tray large enough to serve everyone regardless of how greedy Ben would get.

He’s back in the kitchen a few moments later, followed by a crowd murmuring happily. Harry’s still probably looking for something white, as only Ben and PC Woodcock are in the kitchen, plates in their hands.

“Don’t tell my wife but this smells better than her,” Ben winks as he lifts a fork to his mouth, having a first taste of the apple crumble. “This tastes… bitter,” he manages to croak before lets out an inhumane gasp sound and puts his hands on his throat, while foam starts to form on the corners of his mouth.

“I come bearing custard!” Harry yells happily as he comes to the kitchen and stops with a halt, facing the scene.

Louis sees the bowl Harry’d been holding break into a billion tiny pieces as it drops on the floor, the same floor where Ben’s body is spasming violently before going still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLOT TWIST.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: Another one bites the dust.

PC Woodcock throws up into the kitchen sink.

“I’m not equipped for this!” She cries, wiping her mouth. “All I deal with is village crime. Stolen hay, rowdy kids. Mad cows on the loose.”

“Now, now, dear,” Aunt Jessie approaches her. “Let’s make you a nice cup of tea.”

Louis sees PC Woodcock glance worriedly at Harry.

“ _I_ will make you a cup of tea,” Aunt Jessie adds.

She looks pointedly at Niall, who only now walks to the kitchen and rubs his hands together, heading towards the apple crumble, taking a step over Ben’s body not noticing anything’s off. “And obviously I encourage everyone to stay away from that crumble.”

\--

It doesn’t hit Louis until he sees Ben’s body bag carried away.  

“You’re safe,” he says in an exhale, like he’s been holding it in for days now. He turns to look at Harry and pulls him into a hug. He’s probably never held anyone as tight, and he tightens his grip around Harry’s shoulders even more; as if he’s been drowning and Harry is the air Louis is finally able to inhale. “You’re alive. I didn’t lose you.”

Harry doesn’t wrap his arms around his waist quite as quickly, or quite as tight. “Lou, I…” His voice sounds hesitant.

Louis presses his nose to Harry’s hair, sniffing his curls. Harry hasn’t washed his hair since they came here, but it doesn’t matter. He still smells like Harry. “Ben’s dead, he didn’t get you. You’re safe,” Louis repeats, like some sort of a chant.

“Louis, dear,” Aunt Jessie’s warm hand squeezes his shoulder. “You do… Understand that Ben was murdered.”

Louis finally lets go of Harry. He looks at him, face confused, and then turns to look at Aunt Jessie. “Oh.”

“Yes, _oh,”_ Aunt Jessie says, not unkindly.

“Maybe he…” Louis mind is going a mile a minute, a dozen thoughts zigzagging in haze. He swallows, unwilling to clarify his mind. “Maybe the quilt got him.”

“ _Ben_ killed himself? Really? That’s what you think? _Ben?_ ” Harry sounds incredulous. “ _Ben?”_

It’s irritating. “Well there’s really no other option, is there!” Louis huffs out.

Harry bites his lip, but doesn’t say anything. Aunt Jessie stares at Louis, this annoying look that makes Louis feel like everyone in the world knows something and is just waiting for him to catch up, and they’re getting bored of him not getting there fast enough.

Oh.

Louis can physically feel the shock on his face. “You’re not saying….” He looks from Harry to Aunt Jessie. “I mean, we’re running out of people. No one but Ben would have any reason to kill Liam and Zayn.”

His words are met with a heavy silence from both his aunt and his best friend. “Right?” Louis tries again, head spinning.

“Look, Lou,” Harry starts. “Ben’s dead. Unless he decided to poison himself, there’s still a killer out there.”

“How do you know Ben was poisoned?” PC Woodcock’s sharp voice pipes up from nearby as she walks up to them, putting her phone to her pocket.

Harry turns to look at her, surprised. “I just… I mean, isn’t it obvious? I’ve read my crime books,” Harry glances at Aunt Jessie. “He died after eating. There was foam and spasming, I saw!”

PC Woodcock looks doubtful, making a noncommittal sound. “Interesting. As I just spoke with our lab. Arsenic, they said. in the crumble.”

“But I licked the crumble bowl, it couldn’t have been in that!” Louis remembers.

Harry snaps. “Of course it wasn’t in the crumble before it went to the oven, it couldn’t have been unless it’d been me who poisoned Ben!”

“We can’t really be sure it was meant for Ben,” Aunt Jessie says neutrally. “Whoever put the poison in, couldn’t really have known who it would kill.”

Louis wants to kick himself at catching himself looking at Harry, who looks resolute with his chin up. As if he’s on trial here.

Surely Harry would’ve told him if he’d put poison into the crumble, before offering the bowl to Louis like he always did when they baked something. Surely.

Louis shakes his head, willing the evil little whispers shut the fuck up and go away.

“We went for a smoke,” he counters. “Harry put the crumble in the oven and then we went for a smoke.”

“You left something in the oven unattended?” PC Woodcock raises her brow.

“Crumble takes _forever_!” Harry makes an exasperated hand gesture.

“How long were you away?”

“No longer than ten minutes, I don’t think.”

Aunt Jessie nods. “Ample time for anyone to sneak into the kitchen and poison the crumble.”

“Me and Mr Winston pumped into Mr Tomlinson as we went into the kitchen, he was just going to gather everyone. The kitchen was empty then, I believe Mr Styles was in the pantry,” PC Woodcock reminisces and then nods. “Yes, it must’ve been during when you went for a smoke, otherwise we would’ve seen someone. Or, you know,” she laughs nervously, “it was either of you two.” She coughs and composes herself. “Then Mr Winston cut us both a piece, gave a plate to me and took one himself, and he just… Got to it first.” Her eyes widen. “It could’ve been me.”

Aunt Jessie shakes her head, looking concerned. “It just… It’s so off-pattern, this one. Feels too general, anyone could’ve died. I can’t see how it’d fit…” she mumbles, not finishing her sentence before apparently getting too lost in her own thoughts.

PC Woodcock shrugs. “Perhaps the murderer got hungrier as they went? I remember from criminal psychology that serial killers, I guess it’s fair to call them that by now, get less careful and more… _bloodthirsty_ as they go on,” she shivers.

\--

The longer Louis had spent lying on his back and starting at the ceiling, the quicker the ceiling seemed to fall on him. He’d then tried to stare aimlessly to the distance out of the window in their room, but the trees and shadows had soon started to take forms of killers and haunting characters. He’d taken the book from Harry’s nightstand but, realising it was one of Aunt Jessie’s, tossed it aside with some unfathomable irritation. He’s now reached the level of boredom and/or need for distraction that he’s started tidying up their room.

They’ve been cooped up here for barely two nights, or maybe it’s been three, Louis has lost count – but it already looks lived-in. Clothes are scattered here and there on the floow, and as Louis picks them up, he realises most items he can’t really pinpoint for sure whether they are his or Harry’s. Their earthly belongings seemed to have become shared a long time ago. Louis realises he doesn’t give a shit, just tossing pieces of clothing to either his or Harry’s duffel bags. They share laundry anyway so it’s not like it matters much.

The clothes he keeps picking up have a familiar whiff of the current fabric conditioner they use for laundry. Or well, _Harry_ uses, as for some reason he refuses to let Louis do laundry almost ever. Claims it relaxes him. Louis knows it’s less the act of doing laundry, but more Harry’s weird fabric conditioner obsession. Harry has separate conditioners for clothes, fancy clothes, towels and bed linen – it’s like a ritual to him. According to Harry, fabric conditioning choice shouldn’t be made lightly – it should match the season, the occasion, the mood. Since Louis has known Harry, back when they were still good to pop over to Tesco together, Harry had spent ridiculous amounts of time in household items aisle, sniffing bottles of conditioners before choosing what to buy. He’d always offer a sniff to Louis too, but Louis wasn’t too fussed as long as it wasn’t too spicy or old lady-like. He trusted Harry on this; his clothes always smelled good and like home.

“You couldn’t have killed them,” Louis thinks out loud. “I _know_ you, you couldn’t have.”

He is shocked to hear a thought of something he’s trying so very hard to not think about. Sure, things are really fucking strange, and he isn’t a detective, but he knows _Harry_.

“Thanks,” Harry’s voice makes him turn around, startled. Harry closes the door behind him. “Means a lot. That you don’t think I could. And I didn’t.”

Harry walks next to Louis, taking his hand and pulling him to sit next to him on the bed. “I’m… I feel like I’m losing the plot here, Lou,” Harry says with a small voice. “It’s like… Like everyone is starting to look at me funny. Different funny than before. First, it was like people were looking at me like I had a death warrant on me, like anyone could jump on me and kill me. But now it’s like… Like people think I’m the killer. Like _I_ might jump on them and kill them at any point,” Harry’s lower lip is trembling as he’s still holding Louis’ hand, picking his skin absentmindedly. 

“They’re not…” Louis starts but then stops. He isn’t going to lie to Harry, doesn’t think fake-soothing lies are what Harry needs to hear right now. “Yeh. It’s not great.”

Harry shakes his head in agreement, not saying a word.

Louis pushes on. “I know you didn’t kill anyone. I mean, sure, things might seem really fucking weird right now but like, Aunt Jessie is here, I’m here, we _know_ you didn’t do anything and. It’ll be fine. It’ll all get sorted out. It’ll just… be weird for a bit more.” He pulls Harry closer, and Harry comes easily, flopping his head on Louis’ lap as Louis leans in to place a kiss on the top of his head. “I feel so fucking guilty for thinking that you’re safer now that Ben’s gone,” Louis confesses.

“I might not be,” Harry sniffs and then looks up at Louis, fear all over his face. “ _You_ might not be safe.”

“Me?” Louis is positively surprised; he hadn’t spared a thought for his own life, being too concerned first about Harry and then for Harry. “Nah, come on Haz. You know I’m immortal,” he jokes and pokes Harry’s dimple with a finger.

Harry manages a smile. “I’m being serious, Lou. You need to be careful too. I don’t… Like, if something happens to you. Don’t think I’d want to carry on, either.”

“You’re speaking gibberish, crazy boy. We’re a team, you know that. We’ll never part, right?” Louis holds up his pinky.

“Never,” Harry says and hooks his pinky around Louis’. “You might need to start thinking about doing your own laundry, though. Just in case. If I’m locked up. Or buried.”

Louis waves his hand. “I’ll just mix up your conditioner system, in that case. I’m sure you would like, escape or come haunt me if I used the summer flowers-one in January or something.” He chuckles as he feels Harry physically shiver at the words.

They sit in silence, Louis listening to Harry’s heavy breathing as he’s trying to calm his urgency down, pacing his breathing to Harry’s.

“What did you talk about with Aunt Jessie?” Louis then asks.

Harry had pulled Aunt Jessie to the side and disappeared with her for quite some time, during when Louis had come back up to their room to kill time and be bored.

Harry blushes, red rising to his cheek. “Nothing,” he lies badly.

“You spoke about _nothing_ for almost two hours?” Louis reasons.

Harry lifts himself up from Louis’ lap, putting space between them. “Sorry, let me clarify that. We spoke about nothing that would concern you.”

Feels like something very dark flashes in front of Louis’ eyes. “Ah, right, of course. She’s my aunt. You’re my best friend. Someone is out there killing people and wanting to kill you, and half the people here think you might be the one killing off people. Of course it doesn’t concern me.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous,” Harry tuts annoyedly as he stands up, putting his hands on his hips and looking down at Louis.

It almost feels like an out-of-body experience. Like Louis is drifting outside of his own body, looking at himself and Harry stare at each other, feeling like he has no control of himself; as if someone else is using his mouth to speak.

“Was it even talking you were doing?” Louis hears himself say, unable to stop himself.

“Excuse me?” Harry says slowly. It’s a voice Louis recognises; it’s the calm before storm, the voice Harry rarely uses on Louis but one Louis knows means Harry uses when he’s extremely pissed off and trying to lull his counterpart to a fall sense of security before blowing up on them.

“You heard me,” Louis says challengingly, unwilling to back down even if he knows he’s in trouble. “She’s a charming older lady. Maybe what they say about you and older ladies is true, after all.”

Harry’s eyes narrow to slits. “Fuck you, Louis” he spits out.

Louis looks from the outside at his own shell get up too, and for the love of all higher powers, _why doesn’t he stop talking._ “You don’t tell me what’s going on between you and her, you’re saying it’s nothing and you keep running off with her. What am I supposed to think?”

“You’re so fucking dumb!” Harry yells as he picks up a cardigan Louis didn’t get a chance to put away earlier. He stomps towards the door. “So fucking blind, I swear.”

“Where the hell are you going?” Louis barks.

“What do you think?” Harry opens the door and glances over his shoulder at Louis. “Going to bone your aunt, of course!”

Louis jogs behind Harry, following his stomping steps to the main hall.

“Niall!” Harry shouts, Niall starting at an armchair where he’s been playing cards with Aunt Jessie. Heads of other people scattered in the room turn around too. “We’re going golfing!”

Niall looks stunned, looking from Harry to Louis all flushed behind him, taking in the scene. Finally he nods and stands up. “Alrighty then.”

Harry composes himself as he seems to only now notice Aunt Jessie next to Niall. “Sorry, Aunt Jessie, need some fresh air. Louis here can sit with you and finish your game.”

Aunt Jessie nods, and it’s this look Louis is getting really bloody fed up with – like she knows things Louis doesn’t. Maybe she’s thinking Louis is super stupid and gullible and a bit pitiful. Maybe she and Harry laugh at Louis and how dumb he is. While they lie on the bed.

Harry manages to muster a smile. “I wish this was more resembling of one your books, Aunt Jessie,” he says wistfully. “Maybe we could’ve avoided a few deaths if this was more like ‘The corpse danced at midnight’.”

Aunt Jessie laughs, flattered, and Harry smiles shyly.

“I don’t get it,” Louis says annoyedly. He can’t let go of the nagging feeling of being left out. “Why would a corpse dance?”

“It’s your aunt’s book, Tommo,” Niall quips.  “Don’t know if it’s more surprising you haven’t read her most famous book, or that you haven’t paid attention to Harry gushing about it for ages.”

“It’s not that surprising,” Harry’s voice sounds bitter. “I ramble so much, no wonder he can’t digest all of it.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Or maybe you never tell me about stuff that actually matters.”

Louis can see Harry silently call him ‘cunt’ before nudging Niall along towards the door.

“Besides, it’d be more useful if the corpse stopped dancing and started talking. Too bad corpses can’t talk,” he yells at Harry and Niall’s distancing backs.  

Aunt Jessie suddenly lifts her head. “Sorry, dear, I need to… I must go.” She rushes back towards her room, impressively quickly for a lady her age.

Louis finds himself left standing alone in the main hall.

\--

For the second time today, Louis feels incredibly bored and, for the first time today or in a very long time, very alone. He knows he acted like a dick to Harry, but he’s also aware Harry’s acting strange. He can’t wait for Harry and Niall to come back so he can talk to Harry, re-tune their connection and face the shit they’re in together again instead of dragging each other to the muds.

Seems like the only magazines available at the bar are about horses, hounds and golf. Louis has read each of them at least twice, whilst helping himself to approximatey three Amaretto drinks. They’re not the tastiest but stomaching through them feels cathartic, somehow. Harry hates Amaretto.

“May I join you?” PC Woodcock’s tired voice interrupts Louis’ thoughts.

“Sure,” Louis pats the stool next to him.

PC Woodcock sits down with a heavy sigh, pouring herself a raw vodka and some stale juice. “Why are you sitting here all by yourself?”

“Me and Harry had a stupid row. He went golfing with Niall.”

PC Woodcock nods. “He seemed rather… livid, as they left. Didn’t think he had it in him, sounding so angry.”

“He’s got a temper, for sure,” Louis says and as PC Woodcock looks at him funny, splutters. “I mean, not a temper to kill anyone of course.”

PC Woodcock hums. “Perhaps it’s… difficult, almost impossible, to always see clearly.”

“See what clearly?” Louis doesn’t get it.

“The people around us. See who they are. Or, what they can be.” PC Woodcock weighs her words carefully.

Louis ponders her words. But no, he’s known Harry for years now, and it really feels like he’s known him for longer than that. “I’m sure that’s true for some, but no. Not Harry.”

“Alright, if you insist.”

“I insist.”

A few moments go by in silence.

“My sister got married this weekend,” PC Woodcock says flatly as she pours herself some more vodka. “I really didn’t want to go. This job couldn’t have come at a better time, gave me a good excuse to avoid going. I jumped at volunteering for this when they were asking, thought it’d be a nice weekend, just strolling around a nice manor hotel for some band.” She lets out a bitter chortle.  

“Why wouldn’t you want to see your sister married?”

 “She’s an absolute hag, pardon my language. Made me life into hell, growing up. And even after we grew up, really. Not everyone is as lucky as you with your siblings.” She downs her drink. “Now excuse me, I need to go spy her wedding pictures on Facebook. I hope she looked awful.”

As PC Woodcock stands up, her phone starts ringing.

The vacant stool is soon occupied by Aunt Jessie.

“I see we’re all turning to drinks in matters of distress,” she notes cheerfully. “How very British of us.”

Louis hums politely, getting up to get his aunt a drink of her liking. As he sits back down, he decides to just be blunt. “What did you and Harry talk about?”

“It’s not my place to say,” Aunt Jessie says gently. “Have you asked him?”

“He refuses to tell me!”

“Then perhaps it’s also not your place to ask.”

“But he tells me everything!” Louis cries out. “We’ve never kept secrets from each other.”

Aunt Jessie is about to say something as PC Woodcock rushes back to them.

“Mr Horan is dead,” she manages to stutter out as she grabs Louis’ drink, gulps it down and runs out of the main door.

Louis’ heart drops down, off his chest, down his legs, carrying on to dig its way down to the ground. The room is spinning and his sight is starting to blur.

Aunt Jessie grabs his forearm, speaking in a rushed voice, sounding more serious than Louis has ever heard her be. “Do you trust your Harry?”

Louis nods, vaguely relieved at how quick he was to know in his bones that yes, he still trusts Harry.

“Good. And do you trust me?” Aunt Jessie asks.

“Yes,” Louis says, happy for his honest reflection.

Aunt Jessie nods solemnly. “Good. I think we need to arrest Harry. It’s the only way to stop people from dying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was a rollercoaster.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: two uses of homophobic language 
> 
> Come join me in finding out EVERYTHING.

Louis opens his eyes. He’s definitely awake and as his surroundings start to come into focus in the dark room, he lets out a relieved sigh. He is in his own room, he’s in the comfort of his own bed; the furniture looks familiar, it smells like home and not like a generic hotel.

He’s safe. He’s home. He’s woken up.

_Finally. Fucking finally._

His body is feeling extra toasty, probably due to something soft and warm being wrapped around him. He startles as he wakes up more and realises there definitely is a _human_ wrapped around him; he can feel warm skin on his own, and someone’s chest is rising together with his. It must be a common occurrence in this reality that he’d just forgotten after his long, painful nightmare – if sharing a bed with someone this intimately doesn’t immediately feel strange, it must be natural, just the way his life is.

And of course it’s Harry, judging by the curls that tickle his ear as Harry stirs. Louis moves his hand tentatively, trying to not wake Harry up – his finger tips are on running up and down Harry’s knobbly spine.

“Hey,” Harry whispers raspy, his lips moving against the skin on Louis’ chest as he speaks.

It feels amazing.

“Morning, my love,” Louis smiles sleepily. “Had the worst dream.”

“Tell me,” Harry says as he snuggles in closer. “You’re safe with me.” Harry wraps his limbs around Louis, surrounding him with this lazy morning softness, clinging onto him like a koala bear.

He starts to tell Harry everything from the start, surprised at how many details are so clear in his mind, how much he remembers. Harry listens to him, head still on Louis’ chest, reacting with sympathetic aww’s at the mention of Colin, lifting his head to look at Louis and voicing out sympathetic oh’s as Louis encounters how they lost all their friends and how incredibly crazy he was with the worry of losing Harry.

Harry can’t contain his laughter when Louis, embarrassed, tells about the part where he and Harry had a row over Aunt Jessie.

“Poor baby,” Harry can’t even contain his giggles, “I can’t believe you’re actually so jealous of your own aunt that it haunts you in your dreams!”

Tickles on his ribs are well-deserved.

“I would never,” Harry kisses his nose, “even dream of,” another kiss, “being with anyone but you,” kiss, “even wanting to be with anyone but you,” a kiss on the lips. “You’re my best dream.”

Louis’ heart swells up, so light it could fly to the clouds and at the same time, so pleasantly heavy that it roots him back to this moment, to his bed, to his Harry, as tells him how he never, ever wants to live in a world where they don’t have _this._  

\--

Louis startles awake, gasping. He looks around, absolutely fucking shocked to see it’s not his own bedroom, but this godawful room in this pit of Cumbria again. He reaches out to his left, finding no warm skin and no sleepy Harry. The room feels colder and his spirit sinks even lower than it’s been on all the prior mornings of hoping he’d wake up in his bedroom. After what he dreamt, how realistic and _good_ his dream had felt, he finally feels tears starting to rise into his eyes. He hasn’t shed a tear throughout this all, having ran on survival instinct, but now it finally feels like too much. He lowers his head to his hands.

“I’m still here,” Harry’s gentle voice suddenly says as he sits down on the bed. “Hey.”

Louis lifts his head, seeing Harry offer him a steaming cup of coffee – he hadn’t even realised there was a kettle and a selection of drink sachets on the desk the whole time.

“Thanks,” Louis croaks out, taking the cup with both hands. He blows into the drink, trying to cool it down.

“It’s not, uhm, poisoned,” Harry tries to sound humorous. “It’s ok to drink it. I can have a sip first, if you’d like?” He continues, sounding unsure as he reaches his hand out.

Louis pulls the cup further away from Harry and takes a big sip, staring at Harry resolutely. “Ah,” he lets out a satisfied sigh after he swallows. “Perfect. You make perfect coffee.”

Harry looks miserable; like he’s been crying for days. Like his heart has been broken. Louis is pretty certain he looks exactly the same.

“I, uhm,” Harry clears his throat, avoiding eye contact. “I didn’t kill Niall.”

“You don’t need to tell me. I know you didn’t. You honestly don’t need to like… convince me.”

“Maybe I’m trying to convince myself? I told you, Lou, feels like I’m going crazy.” Harry bites his thumbnail, which he never does unless feeling absolutely desperate and like he’s about to spin into a panic attack.

“You’re not going crazy, Haz,” Louis tells him quietly as he places his cup down on the nightstand, then putting his hand on Harry’s ankle. Harry had told him once it soothes him, calms him down. “Everything is going to be okay, I promise you.”

“You say that, but you don’t tell me anything,” Harry barely sounds accusing, more like he just has no trust in anything ever being okay again.

“Trust me,” Louis pleads. “Whatever happens today, I need you to trust me. I’m in _your_ team, no matter what,” he squeezes Harry’s ankle. “I can’t tell you everything, not yet, but it’s for your own good.”

Harry lets out a dry chuckle. “Funny you say that.”

“Funny how?”

“Just,” Harry shrugs, “you got so pissed off at me for not saying what I talked about with Aunt Jessie and… It’s the same. It’s for the best. That you don’t know.”

“Should I trust you on that?” Louis smiles.

Harry nods. “You should trust me on that.”

“I’ll trust you, then.”

Harry looks happy, genuinely happy for a moment, at the notion.  He looks beautiful, Louis thinks.

“Harry,” Louis starts and realises he very rarely uses Harry’s name instead of the million nick names he has reserved for him. “You’re my best person and I’d never let anyone hurt you. Like, even if some stuff happens today, and _no_ , I cannot tell you, just go with me on this, I need you to know that…” And suddenly, Louis feels like no amount of words will be adequate to the million things he wants to tell Harry; the million things he wants Harry to always know and never doubt. 

Instead, he pulls Harry into a tight hug, holding him close so that no part of their bodies are not touching. He leans his cheek against Harry’s warm cheek, and brushes his lips ever so gently against Harry’s ear before whispering, words so delicate he’s afraid he might break them if he says them too loud. “You’re the best person I know. My favourite everything. I love you a lot,” he tells Harry, heart about to explode, beating so fast it might soar out of his chest and fly away. (Or knowing Louis’ smoothness, it’ll crash into a wall and bounce back and hit him in the forehead and Harry will crack up and die of laughter.)

Harry makes a sound that sounds an awful lot like a sob, and it takes Louis a few seconds to realise the hammering in his chest isn’t just courtesy of his own heart. He feels Harry turn his face tighter into Louis neck, and… did he just sniff Louis’ skin?

A loud knock from the door breaks the spell. Louis clears his throat and gets up to open the door, but stops still as he realises he’s only wearing underwear. Harry seems to have read his mind – feels like he always does – and walks up to the door, opening it.

It’s Aunt Jessie.

“Good morning, boys. We’ll be gathering everyone downstairs as soon as possible, please. We believe we’ve caught the killer.” Her voice is almost robotic, lacking any emotion as she’s stating facts.

Harry’s breath hitches. “Sure, we’ll come down in a sec,” he promises as Aunt Jessie leaves.

Upon closing the door, Harry looks at Louis, eyes wide. Louis gives him a small, encouraging and hopefully comforting smile, and gets dressed in lightning speed.

They walk side by side, steps somehow slowed down as if unwilling to take them forward quickly, the backs of their hands brushing against each other. Louis doesn’t even think twice about taking Harry’s hand, linking their fingers until he can feel Harry’s clammy hand on his. He presses it to his lips, giving it a kiss, trying to convey all the things left unsaid, left undone. He lets go just before they enter the main hall.

The main hall has been re-organised so that all the armchairs and sofas are seated close to each other, turned to face the fire place. The remains of their crew are already there, looking anxious and perversely curious in seeing which one of them had done it. Or done _them_ , considering there’s more than one murder to unveil. Aunt Jessie and PC Woodcock are standing by the fireplace.

“Mr Tomlinson, Mr Styles, please seat yourselves here,” PC Woodcock gestures to a sofa nearest the fireplace, left empty. She is looking different today, a healthier colour on her cheeks and something resembling a smile on her lips; her facial expression almost bordering on smugness. Perhaps solving a crime this scale does that to a police officer.

Aunt Jessie coughs, letting her eyes roam the room. “Hello, everyone. I believe we all know why we’re here so I will cut to the chase. As you know, we have lost four people during this weekend, and me and PC Woodcock believe we have finally caught the killer.”

“Who is it then?” Carl bellows. “I want to know who I need to beat up and get the hell out of here!”

“Bear with me for one moment, sir,” Aunt Jessie waves her hand. “First, I must say this is one of the trickiest cases I’ve ever had to work on. Work of a true mastermind, I’ll admit. Our attention was directed to the wrong direction, if you allow, in the beginning and that made it all the more difficult.”

She looks around, satisfied to see everyone is grasping at her every word. Louis feels his heart pounding, and he is pretty sure Harry hasn’t been breathing ever since they sat down.

“Now, after Mr Malik was killed, it soon appeared that it was a _wrong_ murder, the intended victim being Mr Styles,” she looks at Harry. “But as Mr Payne then also got killed, I began to feel like perhaps that train of thought was wrong, with the killer trying to mislead purposefully. Mr Payne’s murder didn’t make sense, to put it simply, but the evidence was too cluttered to see it clearly. At this point however, me and PC Woodcock and Mr Winston, who was still a part of the investigating force, were under the impression that perhaps the killer could be someone rather unfamiliar with the boys and mistaking Mr Payne to Mr Styles, or alternatively, wanting to murder everyone within the band.”

“After serious private discussions, it became to my attention that Mr Winston had a… suspicious interest in Mr Styles and, without his knowledge, PC Woodcock and me deemed him the main suspect. A thought which naturally soon ended after Mr Winston himself was murdered.”

There’s chatter coming up from the door, and as Louis turns to look along with the others, he can see a few more police officers enter and stay guard by the door.

Aunt Jessie carries on talking, gaining everyone’s attention. “Of course, with Mr Winston dead, the main puzzle now was whether the killings would continue or not. Sadly, Mr Horan was found dead on a nearby golf course not long after. With our body count at four deceased now, we were forced to look at all the evidence neutrally and consider all possibilities to ensure this carnage would come to an end.”

Harry shifts on his seat as Aunt Jessie looks at him. PC Woodcock looks at Harry too, still looking awfully pleased with herself.

“Now, it seems like everyone was killed by the same person. If the first murder was indeed a mistake, why all the other murders? Surely the killer would’ve managed to catch Mr Styles without an error rather quickly. But if the first murder was actually _not_ an error-“ Aunt Jessie holds a dramatic pause, deserving a few murmurs from the crowd “-it all looks a lot more simple. The murderer did intend to kill Mr Malik, but frame it so that our suspicions would be drawn to Mr Styles being the intended victim. Now, the murderer would’ve had to know that Zayn was wearing Harry’s coat, have access to Harry’s sweater and most importantly, be very friendly with Colin to gain the dog’s trust in order to use the poor innocent being as a weapon.”

Louis can see heads are starting to turn towards him and Harry. Harry’s turning red.

“Onto Mr Payne’s murder. Strangled with Harry’s head scarf, which he claims was missing from his luggage earlier that day. Now, everyone here seemed to have an alibi for the time of murder, having been seen at least by one person, including Mr Styles and Mr Tomlinson. However, it seems they were not being quite honest with their alibi,” Aunt Jessie turns to look at them.

Louis wants to die. Or, given the circumstances, not die but perhaps be swallowed from the face of the earth.

“What do you mean?” Harry stutters.

“You see,” Aunt Jessie taps her noise, “I’ve known Louis since he was a kid. I also know he is picky about his personal hygiene and clothes. I couldn’t help but notice that, as you came to talk to us, Louis was wearing different clothes from before. There is no way he would’ve changed without taking a shower and if he took a shower, that must mean you were _not_ together for the whole time you’d provided each other an alibi for.”

Harry opens his mouth and closes it again.

“As for Mr Winston’s death, Harry is the person who baked the crumble. Louis was with him the whole time and there was a moment when whoever may’ve entered the kitchen to put the poison into it… But then that theory just didn’t _go_ with the psychology of this case. All other murders were clearly personal, intended – why would the murderer suddenly be happy killing off whoever? Harry did have a moment to himself, poisoning does not require long, between when Louis left the kitchen and before Mr Winston and PC Woodcock entered in. The kitchen door was open so he could clearly hear who was approaching. With this incidence, I believe it was more an applicable moment than a thought-through situation; Mr Winston was bound to be killed, but the timing was a coincidence. Whoever had the poison on their person, would find several suitable moments to poison anything Mr Winston was drinking or eating.”

“So Harry killed them all,” Carl shouts, sounding unbelieving. “That little poof, fucking knew he isn’t right in the head.”

Louis can’t stop himself; he stands up and tries to lunge on Carl, only Harry’s grip on his arm stopping him.

“Sit down,” PC Woodcock snaps. “And shut up.”

“As our prime suspect had just died himself, it became a worrisome threat that perhaps we’d been wrong all along,” Aunt Jessie continues unfaced. “Despite some, uhm, theories that Mr Winston would’ve killed himself due to guilty conscience about murdering three people, we considered this to be unlikely. Finally, my suspicions came to a horrifying resolution as Mr Horan was found dead on the golf course, after accepting Mr Styles’ invitation to go golfing with him.”

“I didn’t kill him!” Harry cries out. “I didn’t kill any of them!”

“Shut _up_ , Styles,” PC Woodcock snaps again. “You will get your say. _In court,_ ” she adds under her breath.

“Mr Styles claimed to have gone to the restroom and come back to Mr Horan already murdered, but no one could confirm having seen Mr Styles inside. Also, the club that had been used on Mr Horan, was full of Mr Styles’ fingerprints.”

“It was _my_ golf club, of course it had my finger prints!” Harry sounds desperate.

“You are not doing yourself any favours right now,” Aunt Jessie whispers quickly.

“To conclude,” PC Woodcock is swaying on her feet, “it has become obvious that Mr Styles has had all the means and opportunities to carry out the murders; very cleverly making himself seem like the alleged victim in the beginning. As of yet, we are unable to confirm his motive, but that is surely only a matter of time.”

“I didn’t do it, you have to believe me!” Harry shrieks as PC Woodcock approaches him, taking his hands and placing handcuffs on him. “Lou, tell them! Help me!” Harry pleads as PC Woodcock walks him to the other officers waiting at the door, handing him in.

“I understand this whole weekend has been incredibly stressful for everyone. We will have professional available help even as you return to your homes, please do not hesitate to reach out,” Aunt Jessie says sympathetically.

“We’re free to go now?” Someone asks, Louis can’t pick out the voice as his ears are ringing, Harry’s pleads to help him repeating over and over in his ears.

“You are free to go now,” Aunt Jessie nods.

People start rising, chatter filling the room.

“Fucking knew that little fairy was no good for anything,” Carl says loudly as he walks past Louis.

Aunt Jessie just manages to hold Louis back with a hand on his chest to stop him from bouncing on Carl.

Louis feels frozen on his seat as he sits back down on the sofa. Aunt Jessie sits next to him, placing a comforting hand on his knee. “Louis, darling, this had to be done,” she says softly.

“I know,” Louis nods.

“Go pack your bags, Louis,” Aunt Jessie suggests and pats his knee twice before getting up. “I’ve already called your mum, we’ll spend a few nights at hers, mull things over.”

Louis wanders back to their room, everything working on auto-pilot. He wills his mind to stay empty as he empties the bathroom, checks their nightstands and picks up the last clothes from the floor, stuffing them into his and Harry’s bags. For a moment, he finds himself wondering where the hell would he even put Harry’s bag, should he wash his stuff, should he look for a new smaller house, how the fuck will he even cope? He’s not worried about laundry, he’s worried about his heart.

Final look through and he’s good to go. He switches the lights off and heads back downstairs. Aunt Jessie isn’t anywhere to be seen yet, so Louis sits by the bar. He really wants, needs, a drink or quite a few, but the drive back to his mum’s will be over an hour.  

“Mrs Fletcher asked me to let you know that she has some business to attend to at our local police station, and will be with you in a while. She suggested you relax,” PC Woodcock comes to Louis.

Louis checks his phone, taps a few buttons and checks the time – almost five in the afternoon, it’ll be well dark before they hit the road. “Alright. Okay. Thanks.” He expects her to leave, but as she stays put, Louis pulls the stool towards her, offering her a seat.

“How are you holding up?” PC Woodcock asks.

Louis shrugs. “Like shit. Majority of my band mates are dead. My best mate is locked up because it’s looking likely he was the one who killed them. Everything is fucking great.” He really wishes he had something to drink.

PC Woodcock pats his back. “At least he didn’t manage to kill you. And it must be good to know what he was truly like, have his façade drop this early.”

Louis frowns. “He was my best friend for years, though.”

PC Woodcock looks puzzled.

“Except for, you know, all the issues we had in the past. Drifting apart and that,” Louis explains quickly, relieved to see PC Woodcock nod knowingly. “I should be thanking you for revealing his true colours, really,” Louis muses and offers his hand to her.

PC Woodcock shakes it briskly. “My pleasure, Louis. Truly.”

Louis manages a smile, looking around the main hall. Aunt Jessie is still nowhere to be seen, and as a matter of fact, neither is anyone else except for himself and PC Woodcock. Everyone had rushed home, unsurprisingly. Most of the lights have been turned off, aside from the ones lighting up the main hall.

Louis hums to himself. “Harry would love this. He’s so into eerie manors.”

PC Woodcock’s smile that has been painted on her face the whole time, simmers down. “Oh, forget about Harry. He’s locked up now, away from your life, as he should,” PC Woodcock nods as if to enforce her words. “You deserve better friends. You’ve always deserved better. He was hogging your light,” she mutters mostly to herself.

Louis smirks, lifting his eyebrow. “Better friends like you?”

PC Woodcock giggles. “For example.”

“Alright, PC Woodcock. I think that’s a rather difficult name for a friend?”

“Hettie,” PC Woodcock smiles brightly as she looks at Louis fondly. “My name’s Hettie.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Hettie.”

“Pleasure to meet _you_ , Louis,” she grins.

“Are you…” Louis leans back, as in to get a better picture of her. “Are you sure this is the first time we meet? You’re starting to seem a bit familiar. Hettie,” he repeats the name as if getting a taste, “that’s a rare name. I feel like I’ve heard it before.”

PC Woodcock’s, or Hettie’s, brows rise. “You remember?”

“Yeh, now that I think about it, I think I do!” Louis’ voice gets a little higher to note the recollection. “It was quite some years ago, wasn’t it?”

Hettie nods, eyes gleaming. “I can’t believe you’d remember! Yes, it was during the X Factor tour, I stood outside for _hours_ waiting for you to turn up, and then you did!”

“That’s right,” Louis smiles. “I think we even took a picture? Just you and me? You didn’t want any of the other boys?”

Hettie huffs. “Harry tried to be in the picture too but I told him I didn’t want him. You laughed and said you didn’t want him either and he looked _so_ offended, but stepped back.”

Louis actually does remember. Harry had told him after that the girl had given him chills and not the good kind, and Louis had laughed him off, saying he was just being jealous.

“And now Harry stepped back again,” Louis says testingly. “You didn’t want him.”

“ _We_ didn’t want him, remember? You said you didn’t want him either but he refused to listen,” Hettie looks angry at just thinking about it. “But he won’t bother you anymore. I took care of it. I know I had to help you ever since you told me.”

“Was it… our secret?” Louis articulates carefully.

Hettie puts a hand on his thigh. “Yes, exactly! I knew you would understand, I knew you’d understand.”

“Understand what?” Louis asks, trying to sound companionable even though his heart is racing and he’s pretty sure he is about to piss himself.

“Why I did it all, of course,” Hettie looks at him, puzzled. “I did it all for you, Louis.”

Louis works his brain, praying to any higher power that might be tuned in that he doesn’t fuck this up, that he pulls this off. He thinks about Harry and he feels so enraged, but takes a deep breath anyway. “Tell me again how you did everything? Can’t believe my new best friend is so smart!”

Hettie beams at the praise. “Well, of course, first I thought about just getting rid of Harry for good, but obviously that didn’t work out, and then I realized it’d be better to change plans anyway – if Harry died, you would probably be very sad. Even though you really wouldn’t have any reason to, of course—”

“Of course.” Louis feels sick.

“—I mean, he had it all coming to him, didn’t he? But yes, I didn’t want you to feel sad or god forbid _guilty_ so I realized it’d be best to show what an awful person he is, and all of them were really, so you could finally be free and hate Harry the way he deserves,” Hettie rambles on happily, like in a trance.

“So you… Framed Harry as the killer? Impressive,” Louis lets out a low whistle.

“It really is, I was so impressed with myself as well! It all worked out amazingly, don’t you think?” Hettie looks at Louis, expecting more praise.

“Yeh, Hettie. It all worked out amazingly,” Louis says slowly as he sees Hettie flinch with the front door opening.

She jumps off from her stool, throwing Louis the scariest look he has ever seen, but Louis doesn’t stop and think about whether she’s armed – he grabs her by her hand, so she loses her balance and falls down on the floor.

Aunt Jessie comes running to them, together with the police officers Louis saw earlier.

“Yeh, Hettie,” Louis spits out and holds up his phone, “the recording really worked out amazingly.”

\--

It’s past midnight when they reach Louis’ mum’s house. Giving their statements at the police station had taken ages, and eventually Louis and Harry had both been too shaken to drive so Aunt Jessie had to come accustomed to the automatic gear in Louis’ car. It had been a long drive.

The house is quiet, nightlights reflecting soft light to the living room where the three of them are sitting, glasses of wine at hand. Louis is sat on the sofa and Harry is sitting right next to him, no space between them, his hand in Louis’. Apparently this is a thing they can do now, Louis muses and feels his heart expand as Harry’s thumb is drawing circles on his palm.

“I don’t get how she could get Colin to jump on her whistle, though.”

“You forgot that Ben did arrive a few days before you boys did, to plan the set and scout the places. Hettie was there since the start, mapping possible security threats – or in her case, ensuring becoming one. I do believe what she told you, Louis, is true; she did aim for Harry when she killed Zayn, but then soon changed her strategy.”

Harry looks at Aunt Jessie in awe. “I just… can’t fathom how your brain works. How did you connect the dots to her?”

Aunt Jessie giggles. She loves her wine. “I had a strange hunch I couldn’t quite pinpoint, but it was actually Louis here who finally made me see things for what they were.”

“Me?” Louis is surprised. “I don’t even read your books!”

“You said that it’d be better if corpses stopped dancing and started talking. And then it all made sense. Poisoning a crumble just in the hopes of killing whoever didn’t fit the psychology of this case. Then your words hit me; we only had PC Woodcock’s story of what happened in the kitchen, as Ben was obviously dead and couldn’t talk. So, if we question her story and think that perhaps _she_ cut the crumble and gave a piece to Ben, it makes all the difference.”

“Poisoning it at that point would’ve been easy,” Harry realises. “And she could say whatever, it’s not like Ben would’ve exposed her.”

“Exactly,” Aunt Jessie nods. “Also, as she was a legitimate police constable, no one would be wondering why she was in the places she was. Like on the first night, Harry, I know you didn’t see her following you but even if you would’ve, you probably wouldn’t have thought much of it. Or, of course a PC would be in and out of rooms, like yours when she stole your head scarf – after all, she’s investigating things.”

Something dawns to Louis. “She also told me about her sister, called her a hag and said not everyone can be as lucky as I am with my siblings.”

Harry looks at Louis, frowning. “But she didn’t… She said she didn’t know anything about us, like, she even called you Lewis at first!”

“That was very clever of her. Making herself seem wholly unrelated to you.”

“I knew she was trouble all those years ago,” Harry grumbles and looks extremely furious. “She had that aura of a crazy person.”

“That’s why it all worked out so well. She always seemed strangely negative towards Harry in her body language but then with Louis, she was melted goo. She also kept questioning if Harry even was the intended murder victim so much, and then finally, Ben’s murder was almost a confirmation. There was no other motive to kill him than to make it seem like he was definitely not the killer, and not after Harry. I just wish I could’ve saved Niall,” Aunt Jessie says, voice wavering.

“You were so brave, trapping her like that,” Harry looks at Louis, eyes sparkling.

“I was pissing myself,” Louis admits. “Wanted to strangle her. Or, is that like, too soon?”

Aunt Jessie hums. “She is clearly a very disturbed mind. I wasn’t sure if that would work, but it did seem like her main goal was to get Louis’ acceptance – she truly seemed to think she was doing you a favour, and having you acknowledge her ‘good work’, I was hoping that would get her talking.”

“I still don’t get… I mean, I still have a few questions. About it all,” Louis starts carefully. “Like, I did take a shower, nice sleuthing there, but I don’t get why you were so weird then?” He turns to look at Harry who goes beetroot red.

“I, uhm. You know. Was… taking care of stuff,” Harry mumbles, trying to keep his voice low.

“What stuff?” Louis is confused.

Harry makes a weird hand gesture.

It dawns to Louis. _“Wanking?_ You were _wanking?”_ He can’t control the glee in his voice. “How the fuck could you wank, Zayn had just died!”

“You _know_ I do that when I’m stressed,” Harry hushes him. “It’s not like… I just needed a distraction. And you were showering.”

Louis wants to dig deeper, egg Harry further on but perhaps luckily he catches Aunt Jessie’s eyes and controls himself.

“Besides, it’s not like I hid a bloody _arrest_ from you! I was a mess when they took me and no one told me what was going on until Aunt Jessie arrived. You,” Harry pokes Louis’ side so he flinches, “you let me believe you thought I’d done it and didn’t do anything to help me. It broke my heart.”

“Boohoo, broke your heart for like three minutes before everything was explained to you.”

“And of course, Harry dear, we are truly sorry, we just couldn’t let you in on the plot to make sure Hettie bought the whole thing.”

“Of course, I totally get it. It was incredible. So devious and conniving,” Harry looks at Aunt Jessie again, impressed. “Your mind is amazing.”

Looking at Harry gush over Aunt Jessie makes Louis remember something. “I still don’t know what you to talked about? Like, when you went off together?” He tries to sound nonchalant, as if the feeling of being left out, of not being the one Harry trusts everything with, aren’t still raw.

“Well, the first time I wanted to talk to Harry about his actual whereabouts during your shower, when Liam was killed. I realised you were lying and thought he may not be willing to discuss it in front of you,” Aunt Jessie explains. “And then, after that was sorted out, we sort of… Got into talking about something else he felt he needed to talk about.”

“But what was it?”

Louis sees Harry look at Aunt Jessie, giving her a small nod.

“Let’s just say I’m observant about people not only when it comes to crime,” Aunt Jessie winks. “And anything further than that is really between you two. Perhaps you’re now in a place where it’s your place to ask, and your place to tell,” she smiles as she gets up, kissing them both on the cheeks and withdrawing to bed.

Harry looks at Louis, then down to their entwined hands. “I talked about you.”

“Me? You mean like… Did you think _I_ would’ve been behind the murders at some point?”

“No, no,” Harry rushes to say. “She asked me, out of the blue at first, if I… Like, she talked about you as ‘your Louis’ to me and noticed I went all funny about it and. Yeh.”

“She kept calling you ‘your Harry’ to me, too,” Louis smiles and thinks again about it. “I really, really like it?” He says hesitantly.

Harry’s face lights up. “I really like it too. I just, god, Lou. She asked me and finally someone whose opinion and life advice I really appreciate was there and not judging me and it was like, the floodgates were open and she was willing to listen. I’m sorry if I hurt you, I just couldn’t bare the thought of telling you how I felt, how I feel, if you… wouldn’t feel the same. If you’d start hating me. If I’d lose you.”

Louis lets go off Harry’s hand, putting their wine glasses down. He lifts his hands up to Harry’s cheeks, running his thumb on his cheekbones, feeling the warm skin under his fingers as he looks into Harry’s eyes. He rests his forehead to Harry’s, closing his eyes and inhaling Harry’s closeness. “You’ll never lose me, love,” he whispers before he leans in to kiss Harry.

It’s a thing they do now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TADAH! What was your favourite death? Did you have your eye on PC Bonkers all along? And no of course never would I actually harm my dearest HarryandLouis. 
> 
> Thank you so, so much for reading! I had so much fun writing this, I hope you enjoyed reading it. 
> 
> I'd love to hear all your thoughts about absolutely everything. I'm no specialist in killing people (...luckily) or how dogs or arsenic works, so please let possible scientific facts slide.


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